


something bigger than the sky

by mihael_jeevas



Series: something bigger than the sky [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihael_jeevas/pseuds/mihael_jeevas
Summary: Everything is shit, Shisui concludes, and they still have almost two goddamn years left in this mission.There was a time when Shisui thought he would never get tired of the vastness of space, but right now as far as he’s concerned space can go fuck itself.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> while there are currently no content warnings for this story, some will be added as the fic progresses and the rating will go up as well.

**stardate 2269.108**

There was a time when Shisui thought he would never get tired of the vastness of space. Even before deciding on Starfleet as an occupation, Shisui had been fascinated by the stars. As a boy, he had loved looking up at the sky, loved the way he felt small in comparison to the rest of the universe. It had been a comfort then, to think of how little his own struggles mattered in the grand scheme of things. These days, however, he’s getting tired of staring the eternal blackness of the galaxy in the face. The shift has come around for a variety of small reasons and one very big reason in particular. 

It’s quiet on the Corvus, unusually so. For once Shisui is alone on the ship’s deck, sitting in his Captain’s chair with nothing and no one to bother him. The majority of his main crew is currently gathered on the landing pad to see off their much beloved First Officer, whose sudden departure has many of the ship’s members in some stage of chaos. They’ve made an emergency landing of sorts on Vulcan to return one of the planet’s favored sons, and Shisui wishes more than anything for some sort of freak sandstorm so he wouldn’t have to see the drama currently playing out below. 

Shisui has tried not to watch the crowd’s display, but much like a car crash he finds he can’t look away. If anyone found his absence from the farewell suspect, they wisely did not allow Shisui to hear about it. Though he should be present at least for the sake of keeping up appearances, he couldn’t bring his feet to make the trek. It’s easier to stay in his current spot, watching people cry and fawn over the very uncomfortable Itachi while his own stomach churns at the impending loss. 

There’s one member of his fleet entirely unmoved by the procession. Shisui can hear her approach the bridge, the sound of her boots echoing in the ship’s empty halls. A soft hiss fills the cabin as Anko enters, though she chooses to keep her distance. “Yo,” she calls from the doorway. “He’s leaving.”

Shisui doesn’t even bother to look at her; the last thing he wants is to add emotionally-charged eye contact to this already miserable conversation. “I’m aware.”

“You planning on saying anything?”

“Nope.”

Anko sighs. “Shisui--”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” he replies, harsher than necessary. Later, when it feels less like his ribcage is cracking with all the pain inside his chest, he’ll apologize for being such an asshole. But for now, Shisui just wants to be left alone.

His short tone has its intended effect. “Suit yourself,” she mutters, and leaves her friend to his wallowing. 

Whatever prickliness Shisui is feeling drains from his body the second Anko is gone, leaving hollowness in its wake. The truth is that Shisui has nothing to say because he’s already said it all. He of course asked Itachi not to leave, begged and pleaded with the man in a truly pitiful display he wishes he could permanently scrub from both of their memories. Honestly it’s just another regret to add to the collection of Itachi-related mistakes his life has become, though it’s certainly not the biggest. 

As if on cue, Itachi turns his stupidly perfect head and meets Shisui’s gaze straight on. He looks about as bad as Shisui feels, and though he wishes he could take a vicious pleasure in this fact mostly it just makes Shisui feel tired and sad. Even from such a wide distance he can tell the tightness in Itachi’s expression means he’s trying not to cry. Shisui turns his head, breaking the contact, because if he keeps looking at Itachi he’s going to do something even more idiotic than he already has, if such a thing exists. When he hazards a glance at the landing pad, Itachi is gone, and Shisui presses his fingertips to his forehead, trying to work at the migraine he can already feel building. 

Everything is shit, Shisui concludes, and they still have almost two goddamn years left in this mission.

There was a time when Shisui thought he would never get tired of the vastness of space, but right now as far as he’s concerned space can go fuck itself.


	2. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I do not know how to phrase this delicately--” 
> 
> “Believe me when I say I have never once expected delicacy from you,” Shisui cuts in.
> 
> “I find you to be exceedingly unpleasant,” Itachi says.

**stardate 2266.17 **

When his Captain orders him to his quarters on the tail-end of their latest mission, Shisui spends the walk from the bridge to Nara’s chambers replaying the last few days of his life. Thinking back on the unremarkable events of the week thus far--paperwork, minor repairs, the dirty laundry he’s been stockpiling for far too long--he can’t pinpoint exactly what he’s done to merit a slap on the wrist. Considering the only reason the Captain ever summons him for private meetings is to scold him, he’s expecting a reprimand, though he has no clue what exactly it’s for; what he is most certainly _ not _ expecting is to be told he’s been promoted to Captain of Starfleet's latest ship, the USS Corvus. 

These are Shisui Uchiha’s reactions upon learning of captaincy, in the exact order in which he experiences them:

  1. Unbridled joy.
  2. The need to call his mother.
  3. Indescribable panic.

For his part, Shikaku Nara gives Shisui the same unimpressed look he’s wearing whenever the young XO is around. 

Shisui musters up a weak smile and says, “Cool, great. Captain. Yeah. Uh, permission to be dismissed?” and scuttles out of the Captain’s sight before he can vomit on his superior’s freshly steam-cleaned sofa. 

Once he’s back in his own room and the wave of nausea so powerful that he thinks he could vomit up the majority of his internal organs has passed, Shisui tries to process the last ten minutes of his life. At twenty seven he will be one of the youngest captains in Starfleet, if not the youngest. It’s a legacy Shisui is more than ready to accept. Like many who enroll in Starfleet having his own ship has been his dream ever since the Academy. He’s wanted it so badly for so long he can hardly believe it’s actually happening. Sitting on the edge of his tiny bed he plays Nara’s gravelly congratulations over and over in his head, as if to convince himself it’s real. But it’s very real: in a little over a month he and a crew of about twelve thousand will be taking off for a five year mission to explore the unexplored and bring the Federation’s message of peace across the universe, all with Shisui at the helm.

That’s where the panic comes back into play.

It’s not like his current assignment, an eighteen month-long haul with the USS Euripides, is Shisui’s first time on a ship, nor his first time having major authority on one. Ever since his graduation he’s been steadily working his way up the ranks, always eager to take on as many responsibilities as his commanding officers would give him. Truth be told much of the last decade has been spent in space, working nonstop--a fact his mother is fond of reminding him of. The last two missions Shisui was assigned to were spent with him serving as First Officer, leading to glowing recommendations from both Captains. But the difference in being a commanding presence to _the_ commanding is staggering. 

Feeling queasy again, Shisui fires up his comm and connects to a familiar frequency. With his shift over he’s got plenty of time to kill and he knows just the right person to kill it with. 

Anko, dependable as always, picks up in two quick rings. “You look like shit,” she declares.

“That’s ‘you look like shit, _ Captain_,’ actually,” Shisui corrects primly, savoring the way Anko’s thickly-lined eyes widen at his words.

“They made _ you _a Captain? Christ Almighty, Starfleet really is going downhill.” Despite her brash words, Shisui can see the glimmer of pride in her eyes. 

“If you think that’s bad, wait until I tell you who else is going to be on the ship.” The majority of the crew had already been chosen for Shisui, a protocol he was more than okay with; the idea of skimming through millions of Starfleet personnel folders to fill over ten thousand positions makes him want to throw himself out of an airlock. A select few high-ranking positions remained open for Shisui to fill at his discretion, and while he’s lost when it comes to certain choices there’s one position he’s sure of.

Anko raises an eyebrow. “You offering me a job?”

“Why not?” Shisui asks. “It’s not like you’re doing anything better with your life.” 

“What kind of job, Uchiha?”

“I dunno, head of security?”

“Me? Big boss of the Red Shirts?” Anko snorts. “As if.”

“You’re seriously telling me you’re going to pass up an opportunity to boss around a crew of thousands and beat the shit out of people with impunity?” 

“Well,” she says. “When you put it like that.” And just like that she’s on board. 

To the outside world, Anko might seem like a peculiar first draft pick. When they were cadets Anko quickly gained a reputation amongst both teachers and students as having a smart brain and an even smarter mouth. While Shisui learned at an early age to bite his tongue and keep his head down it was a pill Anko could never stand to swallow, and her lack of diplomacy had cost her a potentially illustrious career in Starfleet’s upper ranks. Fortunately for Anko, though Shisui can tolerate decorum he’s never been a fan of it, and he’s not particularly interested in assembling a useless crew of ass-kissers. He’s known Anko for most of his life, years before he even considered a career amongst the stars, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she belongs on a ship--on _ his _ ship, specifically. 

That being said, for all that Shisui loves and trusts Anko, he’s not about to hand over the First Officer position to his best friend. It’s not because he thinks she can’t do it; on another ship he thinks that with her blend of wit and grit, Anko could excel. On his ship, however, Shisui’s looking for something different. The ideal is someone logical, a person who can cut through the mass of hot-blooded personalities (his own included) and give him an honest judgment--essentially, someone to puncture his ego should it be in danger of swelling. 

The question of First Officer lingers between them as they spend the next few hours sifting through records to assemble their crew. 

(That’s another reason Shisui reached out to Anko: her position as a records keeper. “You’re using me,” she stated bluntly.

“Shamelessly,” Shisui replied, and they continued their search.)

By the end of their voyage, only two positions remain: Science Officer and First Officer. There’s one person besides Anko who’s been on Shisui’s mind ever since he received the news of his impending captaincy, someone so smart he makes Shisui look like a toddler and so coldly rational he makes a glacier look cuddly. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he starts. 

“Already do,” Anko counters, though she raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“You’re not going to like this,” Shisui warns, and sure enough, Anko does not. 

*

Having spent most of his life in the American Northeast, Shisui always finds the intensity of the Vulcan climate startling. He’s been on Vulcan a handful of times for various missions over the years; it’s a common pitstop for Starfleet ships considering its importance to scientific developments and diplomatic relations. That being said, it’s the first time Shisui’s approached a member of the Vulcan High Council alone and definitely the first time he’s come asking for a favor.

Sitting across from Ambassador Fugaku is a daunting prospect even for a seasoned officer like Shisui. Every time they’ve met the Ambassador has been exceptionally pleasant--by Vulcan standards, at least--but looking into the man’s severe face is… _ intimidating_, to say the least. Shisui suspects there’s something inherently discomforting about Vulcans to humankind--their sharp focus and complete lack of expression strays into serious uncanny valley territory to a race known for their strong emotions. But maybe that’s not it at all. Maybe he’s just a wuss who really, _ really_ does not want to be having this conversation. 

“I would ask for some clarification,” Fugaku asks in his usual grave voice, and Shisui licks his lips nervously. 

“Sure,” he says. “Ask away.”

“If I understand correctly, you would have me give up one of the planet’s most brilliant and dedicated minds, a member most integral to our society, for your multi-year expedition.”

“Yes, sir,” Shisui answers, more than a little proud of himself for meeting Fugaku’s black eyes head on.

“And have you presented my son with this proposition?”

“Not yet, Ambassador. I wanted to consult with you first. The last thing I want to do is disrupt the Vulcan way of life.” The more Shisui explains himself, the more he feels like an old-fashioned teenie bopper asking for Itachi’s hand in marriage. It would be a funny image if he wasn’t stress-sweating through his uniform. 

While he doesn’t know Fugaku well enough to be sure, Shisui suspects a stern shade of approval fills his face. “I appreciate the regard you have put into your decision to contact us,” Fugaku begins. “While I have my own thoughts on the matter, I trust my son’s judgment and will leave the choice to him.” 

Shisui stares, stunned. The Ambassador’s grip on the crown jewel of Vulcan is notoriously tight and one of the many reasons why this recruitment call was the longest of shots. Though he had his hopes, he never once expected Fugaku to say yes. 

Fugaku stares back at him, clearly expecting a response, and Shisui goes on a valiant journey to find his own tongue. “I understand, sir,” he replies finally. “Thank you for your time and hospitality.” 

“Of course.” Fugaku stands and dusts off his robes, clearly finished with the idiot Captain in his midst. “You will find my son in his lab. Obito, my advisor, will guide the way.” With a nod, Fugaku exits the room and leaves Shisui standing there, more than a little bewildered. All things considered, Shisui thinks it’s a success. Exiting the Ambassador’s conference room he finds another dark-haired, stone-faced Vulcan waiting for him and falls in step with the man without a word.

Vulcan, as far as Shisui can tell, is a planet of nerds. Not like that’s necessarily a bad thing; were it not for his good looks and bubbly charm Shisui’s very obvious bookworm tendencies would be the most notable thing about him. There’s a reason he was consistently number two in his class, after all. Still, the level of academic intensity the Vulcan race displays makes even Shisui’s brain hurt. As they walk he quizzes Obito about the science lab’s current research, even though he knows the likelihood that his questions will be rebuffed. In addition to being freakishly smart (and freakishly strong, as Shisui learned rather painfully during his first year at the Academy), Vulcans are notoriously private to outsiders. Still, Shisui can’t help but pry, just a little; he’s an explorer at heart, which is the reason he joined Starfleet in the first place. 

Obito deposits Shisui outside the lab with little, if any, fanfare. Inside the spacious glass prism is a collection of Vulcans moving around one another in perfect harmony, their studious gazes fixated on their various equipment and texts. And then there’s Itachi, tucked away in the corner just as he so frequently was back when they were younger. Despite it all, Shisui feels fondness tug at the corners of his lips, far more endeared than he has any right to be.

For all the times Shisui’s visited Vulcan he can’t say he’s ever been educated on the species’ beliefs regarding knocking. So, he simply says, “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” and tries very hard to stifle a chuckle when roughly seventeen nigh-identical heads turn towards him.

Itachi’s eyes narrow minutely once they meet his. “Shisui Uchiha,” he announces, about as thrilled to see him as Shisui expected. “Why have you come here?”

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“For what purpose?” 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Shisui says. “You got a minute?”

“No, actually, I do not.”

Shisui smirks, entirely unsurprised by the response considering Itachi’s legendary fussiness. “What about five years?” he asks, unperturbed. 

“I would appreciate it if you did not waste my time speaking in riddles. What is it you are asking of me?”

“Only one way to find out,” Shisui says, and for a moment he swears Itachi looks ready to throttle him. 

It takes another five minutes of verbal sparring before Itachi finally agrees to have lunch with him. Baby steps, but hey, Shisui will take it. The walk to the restaurant is predictably silent, giving Shisui plenty of time to a) doubt the veracity of this plan and b) get increasingly annoyed with the amount of sand currently in his shoes. Once they’re inside, Itachi orders a dish that resembles something Shisui used to feed his childhood guinea pig and looks peevishly disinterested as Shisui tries to make small talk. Very little has changed about Itachi since their Academy days, a fact Shisui finds equal parts charming and unnerving. Interacting with him is like stepping into a time capsule from Shisui's youth, back when his biggest concerns were staying awake in class and trying to get a date with a local girl on the weekends. 

By the time what's considered to be food on Vulcan arrives, Shisui is ready to take the plunge: as Itachi grazes on a plate of kale or whatever the hell he’s ingesting, Shisui jumps right in and asks the man across from him to be his First Officer. 

The look of sheer bewilderment on Itachi’s face is easily one of the funniest things Shisui has ever seen. “I’m afraid I do not understand your request,” the Vulcan says slowly. 

“What’s there to get mixed up about?” Shisui asks, unable to hold back a smile at his companion’s confusion. “I have a ship and I need a smart guy on it. You want to get on a ship and you’re a smart guy. Problem solved.” It’s a little presumptuous to assume Itachi isn’t one hundred percent settled and content on Vulcan, but Itachi doesn’t deny his assertion, and Shisui considers that a point in his favor. 

“I am aware of the details of the situation. That being said…” Itachi’s lips curve down in a gesture imperceptible to most people but Shisui, who considers himself something of a scholar in Itachi studies. It’s an unusual amount of expression for a Vulcan to display, even a half-human one. “I do not know how to phrase this delicately--” 

“Believe me when I say I have never once expected delicacy from you,” Shisui cuts in.

“I find you to be exceedingly unpleasant,” Itachi says. There’s no unkindness in his tone, just a flat matter-of-factness Shisui became immune to years ago.

“Okay,” Shisui replies. “And?”

The frown deepens. “Perhaps I have not made myself clear--” Itachi begins, but Shisui lifts a hand to stop him. 

“Here’s the thing,” he starts. “I know you don’t like me. You have not liked me for more than a decade. And that’s fine! I’m not asking you to braid my hair and make friendship bracelets with me. I’m asking you to do a job.” 

“A very specific job that, in my position as First Officer, would require us to spend most of our time together,” Itachi counters. “For five years, no less.” 

Shisui leans back in his chair, sighing. It’s not as if he expected this exchange to be an easy one. When they were Cadets, Shisui and Itachi had spent their younger years in constant conflict with one another, both because of their differences in personality and their close ranking academically. While Itachi always had the slimmest of leads over Shisui in their studies, when it came to the social aspects of school Shisui was the clear winner. Ever since he was a boy Shisui has always had a gift with people, an easy charm and a bright smile that draws them in. It’s a natural talent that over the years he’s honed like a weapon, something that he has no doubt will be one of his biggest assets as a Captain. 

It’s also completely useless against Itachi. Sensing defeat, he switches tactics. “If you really think I’m that incompetent, isn’t this a good chance to stop me from blowing up a planet or whatever it is you think I’m gonna do?”

Clearly it’s the wrong move entirely. Itachi’s dark eyes narrow and he replies, icily, “You would have me spend half a decade in space babysitting you?”

“_What_? No. That’s not--” Shisui groans. While he’s always known how to handle people, even difficult people, he’s never been all that good at finding his footing with Itachi, someone considered prickly even by Vulcan social norms. It’s not for lack of trying; they spent most of their Academy days in similar social circles and paired together on class projects because of their intellectual compatibility. In truth, a part of Shisui--a part much larger than he’s willing to admit--was hungry for Itachi’s acceptance and recognition, and wanted so very badly to be respected by him and seen as an equal. And yes, _ maybe _ a part of that hunger stemmed from the fact that he’s found Itachi attractive--in a weird, alien kind of way--since the day they met. All that put together makes this crackpot scheme of getting Itachi to be his second-in-command seem like the stupidest decision he could make.

But the thing with Shisui is that, for all he lacks in common sense at times, he has some of the finest instincts in the galaxy. He’s learned to trust his gut years ago and right now his gut is telling him he’s with the right person for the job. That in mind, he decides to play his last card. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you.”

“Please do,” Itachi says thinly. 

“There’s a lot riding on this mission--and me. It’s nearly impossible for someone my age to get their own ship. It’s an honor, and I don’t want to fuck that up. And that’s why I want you on my side, because I know I can always trust you to point out my screw-ups. A good crew needs balance, and if I’m going to be half the captain I want to be I need to temper certain… _aspects_ of my personality. That and I know better than anyone how much you can do with that big brain of yours. I came to you because you’re the best of the best.”

To his credit, Itachi stays silent, mulling Shisui’s words over. Frankly, it’s more consideration Shisui expected. “Who are the other candidates for the position?” he asks finally.

“There are no other candidates,” Shisui replies honestly. “You were the only one I wanted.” 

Itachi blinks, clearly surprised. “I see,” he says. “Well, I thank you for your consideration.”

It sounds like a very polite, very Vulcan no. But Shisui suspects he knows Itachi well enough to assume he still has a chance of winning him over, even if it’s a slim one. “Don’t thank me,” he counters. “Just say yes.” Fishing around in his pocket, he finds enough credit to take care of both of their meals and lays it carefully on the table. “We’re leaving on 2266.53 from the holding deck in San Fran at 0900. I expect to see you there.” 

“You will find yourself disappointed.”

Shisui grins. “We’ll see.”

Later, when he’s back on the ship, he checks his messages and finds one from Anko. _ Still think you’re fucking crazy_, it says, and Shisui smiles. He had told her about his plans for the day and also informed her they were now betting on whether or not he could recruit Itachi, the prize being one of them owing the other coffee for the entirety of their voyage.

_ Better start saving up now! _ he replies, and hopes very much that he’s not wrong about all of this; after all, he doesn’t have nearly enough credit stored up to support Anko’s caffeine addiction. 

Only time will tell who will prevail, but for now Shisui flops back on his mattress and prepares for the long trip back home. 

*

The first time Shisui interacted with Itachi they were sixteen and Itachi’s nose was broken.

They had exchanged glances briefly during the welcome ceremony, when Shisui’s eyes had wandered over every new face, drinking in the bright colors and fascinating shapes with a mix of hunger and glee. Back where he was from, aliens were few and far between--hell, even being half-Japanese in his neighborhood was novel to some people. To be at Starfleet Academy, surrounded by types from all across the galaxy, was an incomparable experience, even if Anko spent the entire time complaining about the Headmaster’s speech while loudly smacking her gum. That night they huddled behind their dorm and took turns bumming off the same joint (where Anko managed to get weed on their first goddamn _ day_, Shisui will never know), with Anko droning on about the lameness of Starfleet and Shisui sitting next to her with stars in his eyes. In hindsight, Shisui supposes the beginning of their journey with Starfleet truly set the stage for their lives thus far. 

Later that week he had been walking the corridors after the first day of classes when he spotted the gang at the end of the hall. There were four boys crowded around a small figure huddled on the floor, throwing insults and punches in equal measure. Shisui hadn’t thought twice about rushing in, shoving the kids off their target. For his part, Itachi looked remarkably unaffected considering his split lip and swollen nose, but as Shisui would later learn that was just the Vulcan way; no doubt Itachi would have been exceptionally loathe to show emotion around the bullies, correctly perceiving it as a weakness. 

Shisui wasn’t especially tall for sixteen, but he was crafty and it didn’t take long before he sent the boys running down the hall. Once he was sure they were alone, he reached out to pull Itachi up. To his surprise, the boy slapped his hand away, rising to his feet while wiping at the blood spilling down his face. “I do not need your assistance,” Itachi spat while Shisui stared at the splash of emerald blood on the boy’s shaking fingers, entranced by the unusual sight. 

“Um, you’re welcome?” Shisui replied, frowning as he watched the Vulcan grab his belongings and stomp off in the opposite direction. 

Looking back on the incident as an adult, Shisui doesn’t think it’s the only reason Itachi dislikes him, but it certainly hadn’t helped. If nothing else, the event was certainly indicative of what their relationship would become. 

(Later Anko would tell him he was fucking stupid for ever getting involved, then spend the next three years dragging Shisui through the mud for what she perceived to be his preoccupation with the Vulcan boy. The more things changed, the more they truly stayed the same.)

*

Blessedly, the Euripides touches down in the New York Starfleet base, making it that much easier for Shisui to reassemble his life before he has to scramble it to pieces once more. The transport to Boston is just as delightful as Shisui remembers it, and he spends the crowded, multi-hour drive half-asleep with Led Zeppelin blaring between his ears. 

With less than a week until he launches back into outer space, Shisui has precious little time to get his shit together. The first order of business is to stop by his childhood home to visit his long-suffering mother, who takes the news of his imminent departure about as well as he expected she would. The two of them only had each other when Shisui was younger, and his adventures off-world had been painful for both of them, especially as his responsibilities grew and his time away from home increased. Eventually, after a long-winded chewing out positively loaded with expletives, his mother sighs and kisses his forehead, wishing him a safe journey, and Shisui swallows thickly at the sudden lump in his throat. 

After his last home-cooked meal for the foreseeable future, Shisui heads back to his apartment, the one he spends such little time in he wonders why he even bought it in the first place. He allows himself exactly two days to relax and fall back into his old routine of sleeping until noon, ordering from his favorite Chinese place, and letting his dishes pile up to recharge his batteries. As rested as he can be, he gathers all of his carryable possessions and books a seat on the transport to San Francisco the next day. There’s no point in loitering around the city much longer, not when he can feel the restlessness shaking in his bones. He’s far too impatient to sit still, and even if he could the idea of bothering Anko for three straight days while crashing on her couch is too appealing to pass up.

Anko, he discovers the following afternoon, looks roughly the same as she did the last time Shisui saw her, the only differences being that her hair is shorter and her perpetual sourpuss is somehow even more pronounced. “‘Sup, dickhead?” she asks as Shisui climbs in her car.

Shisui snags a cigarette from the pack that lives in Anko’s cupholder, lighting it with a truly ancient book of matches before inhaling the nicotine with relief. “Is that any way to talk to your superior?”

“Fuck off, Uchiha,” she replies, and makes a sharp turn directly into traffic. While Shisui has missed Anko terribly, he certainly hasn’t missed the abject horror that is driving with her, and he spends much of the ride back to her apartment with his eyes closed and his stomach in knots. 

Though Shisui never developed the fondness for San Francisco that Anko did, he at least has an aesthetic appreciation for the city. The sea-salt air smells enough like Boston that when they were cadets he used to breathe deep and inhale it greedily to stave off his homesickness. With three days to kill before they’re due at Headquarters, Shisui’s content to wander around the city, trailing through farmer’s markets and antique shops as he endlessly bickers with Anko. They’ve known each other for so long that no matter how much time they spend apart it’s always effortless to come back together. Anko is a piece of him, like his memories of driving his mother’s old car or the collection of vintage albums he foolishly brought along like a safety blanket. It’s a comfort to know that whatever happens on this mission Anko will be standing right there beside him, even though she’ll probably being calling him a dumbass while she does it.

The evening before the USS Corvus’ launch, Anko bodily drags Shisui to a health code violation of a greasy spoon diner. It’s a little joint Shisui and Anko have frequented since they were teenagers, and frankly he’s shocked it’s still kicking. Settled in their usual booth as they eat their dirty cheap food, Anko unveils her apparent plan to kill Shisui in between stealing his fries. “If this whole ‘make Itachi First Officer’ gamble of yours is just a ploy to try and fuck him I _ will _ kill you,” she announces around a mouthful of cheeseburger, and it takes very careful maneuvering to keep Shisui from choking on his own meal.

“You think far too little of me,” he replies after a much-needed sip of water. 

“No, I think just enough of you.” 

“See, negative assumptions like that are the reason I’m the only friend you have to insult.” Anko says nothing, reaching over to pluck yet another one of Shisui’s fries off his plate. Rolling his eyes, he swats at her hand. “One, if you want them so badly, buy your own. Two, you really think I’m such a sleazebag I’d leverage my position as the Captain to sleep with one of my crew members?”

“Why would I buy my own when your fat paycheck can pay for the both of us, _ sir_?” she answers. “And, no, for the record I don’t think you’re that morally bankrupt. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up or whatever. You’ve always been weird about him.”

“I was _ sixteen_,” Shisui says, exasperated.

“And seventeen. And eighteen. And--”

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” 

“It’s not like it matters. He’s not showing up, anyways.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do, because I have a brain. Unlike some people in this establishment.” 

“Whereas I, unlike some people in this establishment, have a sense of youthful optimism.”

“Dumbass,” Anko says, and steals another fry, chewing the helpless potato with spiteful victory. Sighing, Shisui concedes defeat and pushes the plate across the table. 

That night, Shisui spends most of the evening wide awake on Anko’s dreadful pull-out couch. Though he absolutely will not admit it to her, his faith in his success _is_ starting to wan. There’s been no word from Itachi since their conversation on Vulcan, and Command is starting to get crabby about Shisui’s lack of a First Officer. It had been a tense enough conversation trying to justify his choice of selecting one low-ranking Starfleet paper-pusher and one battle-untested Vulcan scientist for the top of his chain of command; if Itachi really does turn him down he’ll have caused a whole lot of trouble for absolutely nothing. He supposes that if worse comes to worst he can always choose the upstanding pedigree officer that’s been recommended to him by one of his previous Captains, but Shisui has never been about settling for second best. 

Up until now, the nerves that came with his sudden promotion had mostly vanished after the initial wave. Shisui had simply been too busy trying to prepare for the mission to feel any fear about exactly what he was doing. But, in the dead silence of night, all the anxiety and feelings of unworthiness he’s subconsciously buried come creeping out from the carefully packed hideaways in his mind. A million different thoughts race through his mind about how he’s going to fail, how he never should have been chosen in the first place, and Shisui drives his palms into his tired eyes as if he can physically push them away. Itachi’s smart to blow him off; there’s no point wasting his brilliance on a what’s soon to be a sinking ship. 

Shisui sighs and rolls onto his stomach, smothering his face in Anko’s stuffy spare pillow. Maybe being a Captain isn’t all it’s cracked up to be after all. 

*

In the morning, Shisui peels himself off the futon with his best pasted-on smile, though it widens into a genuine expression of joy when Anko stumbles out of her bedroom. His best friend has never been an early riser, and Shisui’s delighted to see this part of her personality hasn’t changed. “‘Morning, sunshine!” he calls out, chuckling when Anko merely grumbles in response. Half an hour later, with all their belongings packed and much-needed coffees in hand, they’re en route to Starfleet Headquarters. 

The heart of Starfleet is just as shiny and immaculate as Shisui remembers it, if not more so. There are few things Starfleet Command likes more than pomp and circumstance, and the collection of perfectly polished buildings and marble towers screams unnecessary opulence. “This place sucks,” Anko mutters from Shisui’s side, thick sunglasses covering the bags under her blood-shot eyes, and Shisui can’t help but agree, albeit silently, as they head inside. “Thank fuck I’ll never be here again.” 

If Shisui knew how much easier it would be to move around Headquarters as a Captain he would have asked for an upgrade in rank ages ago. The second they check in they’re immediately taken out of the lobby and into an office to finalize the terms and conditions of their mission. There’s approximately nine million forms Shisui needs to read and sign before Command is willing to fully give him custody of his ship. Anko reads over his shoulder, much more eagle-eyed now that the caffeine is hitting her bloodstream, and she's eager to search out anything that could make it easy for Starfleet to screw them. Though Shisui’s significantly less cynical, he reads each paragraph just as carefully, committing as much policy and procedure to memory as possible. He’s initialed hundreds of documents like these before, signing his life away to Starfleet over and over again, year after year, but each word has much more weight now that he’s top dog. After a grueling twenty minutes, Shisui signs his last page and hands it to a stiff looking agent. “Congratulations, Captain,” the man says, extending a hand. “Good luck on your voyage.” The dullest part of his promotion completed, Shisui shakes the man’s hand and walks with Anko to see their home for the next five years. 

Though Shisui has seen pictures of the Corvus, he’s yet to see her in person and when he does she’s so beautiful it nearly takes his breath out of his lungs completely. In theory, there’s nothing that separates this ship from other Starfleet ships, except that this one is _ his_. Shisui reaches out and runs a tentative hand over the Corvus’ saucer, feeling the cool metal against his trembling fingertips, and suddenly the magnitude of everything hits him harder than it ever has. Face to face with the new lady in his life, all his doubts and worries disappear in a puff of smoke--for now, at least.

Inside the holding dock, dutifully standing in perfect formation, is the ship’s new crew. A collection of various ages, genders, races, and species, all ready to embark on an incredible adventure together. The crowd of excited faces look to Shisui with mixed wonder and nervousness, though there’s one person in the group that catches Shisui’s eye: at the heart of the storm stands Itachi, wearing his most pinched expression, and Shisui’s heart absolutely, _ positively _ does not do a flip at the sight. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Anko drawls, clearly displeased. 

“I _ knew _ it,” Shisui replies, turning to look at his friend with a smirk. “Get ready to pay up.”

“This is a clear abuse of your authority on this vessel.”

“A deal’s a deal, Mitarashi!” he calls out as Anko sullenly wanders away, not willing to hear Shisui’s inevitable “I told you so’s.” 

They have roughly twenty minutes before boarding, which gives Shisui just enough time to make Itachi regret ever allowing Shisui to waste his time on Vulcan. It’s easier said than done to cut through the throng of people: everyone wants to come up to Shisui and shake his hand while introducing themselves. Most of them thank him for the opportunity and promise not to fail him while Shisui smiles politely and tries as hard as he can to remember the laundry list of names currently being thrown at him. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Anko with her finger in her open mouth, miming a gag, and resists the un-Captainly impulse to flip her off. Finally, after cutting through the sea of bodies, he finds himself standing in front of his new First Officer. 

“Captain,” Itachi begins, unnecessarily formal already. Tension is obvious in the lines of his body, discomfort holding his spine straight and his shoulders tense. 

“You made it,” Shisui says, raising his voice above the chatter all around them. 

“So it would seem.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Itachi refuses to meet his eye as he says, “You are in possession of a ship, I wish to be on a ship. It would appear to be a rather simple decision.”

Shisui smiles. “Guess it is.” 

“I would ask one thing of you.” 

Curious, he replies, “Anything.”

“Please do not make me regret this.”

It’s certainly not a request Shisui was expecting. Though he should probably try and quell his First Officer’s concerns, Shisui does precisely the opposite and all but laughs in Itachi’s face. “No promises,” he says, and claps Itachi on the back with enough enthusiasm to send the man stumbling. Itachi’s responding look is downright mutinous, and Shisui suspects only a miracle will get all of them to survive these next five years.

Personally, he can’t wait.


	3. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After roughly two months in space, Itachi comes to a few important realizations. The first is that Shisui Uchiha has revealed himself to be a better Captain than Itachi ever would have expected. The second is that, in spite of the first realization, he still finds the man insufferable.

**stardate 2266.114**

Life aboard the USS Corvus isn’t exactly what Itachi had expected. Having spent most of his life dreaming of prolonged space travel but having no real idea what such a thing would entail, his expectations were admittedly unrealistic. A part of Itachi naively carried delusions of grandeur, visions of glorious space battles and tense diplomatic relations between deeply divided races. However, his current mission couldn’t be any further from such fantasies. So far the assignments the crew have received have been few and far between, though he supposes that’s probably for the best as their group of intrepid adventurers gets used to existing within the ship and amongst one another.

Even if he finds the reality of the situation mildly disappointing, part of Itachi is grateful for the slow start. Going from the planet he’s called home for the majority of his life to this strange new world involves a radical shift in perception, something Itachi finds equal parts exhilarating and disconcerting. Vulcan functions as an insular society, with close-knit clans and even more closely shared beliefs, and while Itachi has always respected and admired his culture even as a child he had wanted more from the world. This desire led to his very unusual decision to enlist in Starfleet Academy as a youth, a choice that permanently altered the course of Itachi’s life. It had been a jarring experience when he entered the Academy, being exposed to a collection of ideals and races he’d only ever heard of in books; the newness of it all, the feeling that there was a wealth of knowledge he might never be able to fully tap into, was intoxicating. And it was all those years ago, in the halls of Starfleet Academy, where he began to nurse his dream of serving on a ship--a dream that, for better or worse, has been realized. 

Truth be told, Itachi still doesn’t know why he accepted his current position. Most days he feels woefully unsuited for at least half of his duties, usually those pertaining to the crew. One thing Itachi has unfortunately learned is that there’s a wide gulf between knowing he will be at the beck and call of thousands of people and actually experiencing such a phenomenon. Often he finds himself completely without answers or solutions to the questions and problems brought to his person, leaving him to stumble blind and awkward towards resolution. For the first time in his life, Itachi, the eternal prodigy, has found himself in a situation he cannot instantly make his own. 

To his irritation, there is one person who appears to be totally at home with being the focal point of a small army. After roughly two months in space, Itachi comes to a few important realizations. The first is that Shisui Uchiha has revealed himself to be a better Captain than Itachi ever would have expected. The second is that, in spite of the first realization, he still finds the man insufferable.

Despite his protests on Vulcan that he would not, in fact, be the man’s babysitter he finds himself watching Shisui closely. Part of the problem is that monitoring Shisui is part of his job, as he’s required to essentially be the man’s shadow. But the other part is simply Itachi’s own misgivings. Perhaps it’s unfair to be so suspicious, but the majority of his memories of Shisui come from their shared youth, back when Itachi found him to be nauseating at best. 

Whatever negative feelings Itachi has about their Captain, it’s not a sentiment shared amongst the rest of the crew, and Itachi is neither so petty nor so ignorant that he can’t see why. If there’s one area Itachi can (begrudgingly) give the man credit in it’s his remarkable ability to communicate with people. Time after time Itachi’s watched Shisui work what appears to his eyes to be complex witchcraft over various crewmembers, meeting each and every one of their concerns with a singular empathy and earnestness that makes them truly feel seen. It’s not as if Shisui is all talk, either; Itachi has observed that the Captain almost always says what he means and means what he says, and has never once prided himself above the crew. There’s no job on the ship too unimportant or repulsive for Shisui to perform, and his willingness to lower himself combined with his evident compassion has very quickly won over the majority of the ship’s residents--nearly everyone but Itachi, of course. 

Humans are… strange creatures. Of all the species Itachi has encountered humans have always been the one that has vexed him most. With their reckless sentimentality and endless contradictions they’re the polar opposite of Vulcans, and even his half-human heritage has brought him no closer to understanding why the race functions as absurdly as it does. That said, Shisui Uchiha is perhaps the most human of all the humans he has met, a fact Itachi suspects lies at the heart of their conflict. 

Despite his unease in his position and discomfort in his new surroundings, Itachi has managed to make a few tenuous connections aboard the Corvus. Unsurprisingly, the two strongest interpersonal relationships he’s formed have been with the Chief Medical Officer, Sakura Haruno, and his fellow Science Officer, Kabuto Yakushi. Having a common interest in discovering how the world works made it that much easier to grease the wheels of social interaction, so to speak. While Itachi wouldn’t exactly say they’re _ friends _ (truth be told, he’s never been all that sure what constitutes a friend and whether or not he’s ever had/been one) they have a pleasant and easy camaraderie that proves to be a welcome part of his daily routine. 

As time goes on, he finds himself positively interacting with more members of the ship. Ino, the half-Betazoid Chief of Operations and the Corvus’ Communications Officer, is sharp-tongued and whip-smart, and Itachi enjoys her company if for no other reason than her frequently sarcastic remarks about the Captain. On the bridge is Asuma, the Chief Helm Officer, who possesses an even temper and experience that is very useful to an XO as new as Itachi--that and he does an impeccable job of managing to motivate their brilliant yet lazy Chief Engineer, Shikamaru. Overall, Itachi is relieved to find most of the ship’s staff to be agreeable, and he can reluctantly admit that Shisui was smart in his choices for the majority of his highest ranking officers. 

If there’s any selection that Itachi takes issue with it’s the first one that Shisui officially made. Of everyone in the crew the one person--besides Shisui himself--that Itachi struggles to be civil towards is Anko. Part of the problem, he suspects, is that for all the time he’s known Shisui and Anko he’s perceived the two to be a package deal. Back when they were cadets the pair were inseparable, constantly egging one another on and magnifying Itachi’s headaches to an unfathomable degree. That intimacy leaks into their working relationship with the stunning lack of professionalism that Anko displays on a regular basis, an attitude unthinkable to Itachi regardless of his feelings on the Captain. Of course, it doesn’t help that Itachi’s certain Anko also doesn’t care for him and, according to Kisame--a very gossipy Security Officer with whom Itachi has created an inexplicable rapport--actively campaigned against Itachi being made First Officer. An ideal day for both Itachi and Anko typically leads to them ignoring each other as much as possible until crisis inevitably rears its head; frankly, Itachi can live with the arrangement, at least for the time being. 

For all the pressure Itachi feels to perform, the truth is that the majority of his work is rather mundane--observing the functions of the ship, gathering intel from the crew, preparing reports to deliver to the Captain. This part of his job, organization and data collection, he believes he excels in. It’s what he has to _ do _with such information that proves to be a problem. 

*

There are very few emotions Itachi has truly struggled with in his life. On the whole, he’s found the Vulcan philosophy of logic a helpful and relatively easy template to follow. But if there is one emotion he finds himself battling more often than others it’s anger. It’s a tendency that appears to be genetic; his father once told Itachi about experiencing a similar impediment as a youth, and Sasuke… well, the less said of his brother’s temper, the better. While Itachi’s anger rarely rises above an aggravated simmer, there have been times where he has been pushed beyond his normally strict limits. And, unsurprisingly, many of those times have involved Shisui. 

When they were younger the mere sight of Shisui’s disheveled hair was enough to make Itachi grit his teeth. The tension grew stronger whenever they were in close proximity and flared intensely in the moments where Shisui would answer a teacher’s question before Itachi, then turned to him with that stupid _ look _on his face. It was the same expression Shisui always had when looking at Itachi--open and friendly and bright--that made Itachi’s blood boil. Each time it made Itachi feel like there was a joke he didn’t understand and thus was likely the punchline of. More than a decade later, Itachi’s teenage frustration has only intensified. Being around Shisui--and humans in general--still feels like an exercise in isolation and humiliation, a sensation that spikes whenever Itachi is confronted with that damned _ look_. 

Currently Itachi is faced with said look while delivering his end of the day reports in the Captain’s quarters. Though the space is ridiculously large, Itachi can’t help but feel claustrophobic, almost cornered, every time he’s inside it. Thus, he stands stiffly at attention in front of the Captain’s desk, not so patiently waiting for escape. 

It’s an apprehension that Shisui’s regrettably keen eyes clearly perceive. “You can sit, you know,” he says, just as he does each time they meet, and like clockwork Itachi replies, “I prefer to stand, thank you.” Night after night they perform the same dance, and probably will continue in this pattern for the next four years and two hundred and fifty-one days. 

Needless to say, the prospect is not an endearing one to Itachi. 

As always, Shisui takes an agonizing amount of time to read through the file. If he did not know better Itachi would swear he has aged and died by the time the man finally sighs and closes the (admittedly rather thick) document. “Well,” he announces slowly. “That was… informative.”

Itachi raises an eyebrow. This is yet another part of their routine: once again Shisui has managed provided him with a reaction he in no way anticipated. “Is there a problem, Captain?” 

“No, not at all. It was just--very detailed.”

There’s a significant pause as Itachi tries to deduce exactly what those words mean. “Would you prefer I not provide you with specific information pertaining to the running of your ship?” he asks, after a beat. 

“Why, First Officer, I wouldn’t dream of telling you how to do your job,” Shisui replies with a grin, and Itachi makes a physical attempt at lowering his own rapidly rising blood pressure. Perhaps the worst part of anger, he thinks, is the physical way in which the emotion sits inside him. He feels it coil in his stomach like a serpent, slithering thick and hot, a fiery ache that flares more and more these days, and it seems to be exclusively tied to Shisui. The sensation is so foreign and overwhelming he can only assume it’s a deeply repressed rage towards the man just waiting to be released. 

Said feeling only worsens when Shisui grins, boyish and unrepentant, and adds, “That being said, the number of adjectives per paragraph might be a tad… excessive, at times.”

Itachi bites back a frown. _ Of course _ this man would find a way to complain about him doing his job effectively. “Thank you for the feedback, Captain. I will keep that in mind for future correspondence,” he says thinly. 

“Just a suggestion,” Shisui counters with manufactured placidity. He leans back and stretches, either blissfully unaware of Itachi’s brewing mutiny or actively enjoying it, before continuing, “By the way, I just received word from Starfleet Command. We have a new mission, though still nothing all that important.”

“Any mission that furthers Starfleet’s goals is a valuable use of our time.” 

“You say that now, but see if you’re singing that tune in two years when you’re negotiating trade routes and bored out of your skull,” Shisui retorts. “Apparently the Andorians have cargo they want transported and they’re too lazy to do it themselves, which is where we come in.”

“What exactly will we be currying?” Itachi asks. 

“I didn’t ask for the details; the Andorians have a tendency to get touchy when people start snooping in their delicates. However, I was repeatedly assured that all Andorian exports exceed the Federation’s strict standards of lawfulness and safety--their words, not mine,” Shisui clarifies wryly. “In any case, we won’t be on Andoria for very long; it sounds like they just want us to grab their shit and go. But they’re at least expecting a meeting, probably to suss me out and see if we’re worthy of carting around their precious bounty.” The Captain shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the possibility of the Andorians’ judgment. He looks at Itachi, tilting his head curiously, and Itachi has a moment to feel uneasy before Shisui asks, “Come to think of it, you Vulcans aren’t particularly popular, are you?”

Itachi arches an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “I beg your pardon?”

“Andorians,” he explains, as if that actually _ explains _ anything. “They don’t seem to like you very much.”

Personally, Itachi thinks that’s a downright charitable summation of Vulcan-Andorian relations. While the two races made peace with one another before Itachi was even born, the tension between them remains as thick as it is obvious. Truthfully, the prospect of entering Andorian territory is not one that fills Itachi with joy, but he takes his duties far too seriously to refuse what’s being asked of him. “To be frank, I do not much care for what Andorians think of my people,” he says. 

“It’s not just them, though. Romulans, Klingons--”

“With all due respect very few people would accuse Klingons of objectivity when it comes to matters of cross-cultural integration,” Itachi counters. 

“Okay, fair.” 

Itachi takes a deep breath, then exhales sharply through his nose, a calming technique gifted to him by his father when he was a boy. “If you are concerned about my ability to remain composed during the negotiations I must assure you that your anxiety is unnecessary. I am perfectly capable of performing the tasks required of me as the First Officer of this vessel,” he says. 

“Believe me when I say I have never been worried about the quality of your work,” Shisui replies with a smile Itachi regards suspiciously. The expression seems sincere, but Itachi has always struggled to perceive the nuances of human facial movements--that and he has learned to never fully let his guard down around Shisui. 

Before Itachi can interrogate the Captain’s sentiments any further, Shisui says, “We’ll be landing on Andoria in about two days, give or take a few hours, so work with Operations to ensure we have enough storage space to take on extra cargo.”

“Understood,” Itachi says. “Permission to be dismissed?”

“Granted. Get some rest, Itachi.”

Itachi exits the room without another word and swears he can hear Shisui chuckling as he does. 

Once free, he leans against the door of the Captain’s quarters, the cool metal a soothing touch against his now-warm skin. “I loathe that man,” he announces to absolutely no one, though perhaps a part of him spitefully wishes the object of his disgust has heard him after all. 

*

The most frustrating thing about Shisui Uchiha, Itachi has decided, is the fact that despite all appearances the man is no fool. 

It had been easy to write Shisui off when they first entered the Academy. As a boy Shisui was loud and brash, utterly demanding of everyone’s rapt attention, and Itachi had found his antics exceedingly distasteful. When they were grouped together in classes, Itachi was shocked; he had tested well, entering Starfleet Academy with some of the highest scores in the school’s history. It made no sense that he was sharing academics with an absolute buffoon--until Shisui actually opened his mouth and blew nearly every one of their classmates out of the water with his intelligence. While the discovery should have softened Itachi’s opinion on the human, if anything it simply made Itachi dislike him _ more_, because it proved that Shisui could be better, could make something of himself, but simply chose not to. It was an unthinkable prospect to Itachi, someone who always strived to be the absolute best version of himself, who followed rules impeccably and gave his whole self to whatever subject currently had his dedication. 

In the years since they graduated, it would appear not much has changed. After all this time, Itachi is still a perfectionist and very much still wondering why Shisui behaves as he does. 

Such ruminations are a welcome distraction as they make the numbing hike across Andoria. Having spent most of his life surrounded by the dry heat of Vulcan, Itachi finds himself struggling to adjust to the moon’s icy atmosphere, though it’s a burden he keeps to himself. The Captain is walking in front of him, uncharacteristically silent, and if Itachi weren’t on the verge of hypothermia he might be able to properly enjoy this fact. As it stands, he buries his face even deeper into his scarf and clenches his fists in his pockets, listening to the crunch of their boots and the wind howling around them. Currently Andoria’s in the grip of a particularly fierce snowstorm, and were it not for the two guides leading them into the moon’s occupied core Itachi has no doubt they would end up hopelessly lost, if not deceased. A suspicious part of him wonders if they’re even going the correct way, as the Andorians had looked none too pleased to see a Vulcan was one of the Corvus crewmembers they were conscripted to retrieve. But even though he has misgivings about Shisui as a Captain and person, he doesn’t believe the man would allow them to be so easily led to their deaths. So, if Shisui trusts their guides, Itachi is inclined to agree with his assessment. 

His faith is rewarded when, after what feels like an eternity of walking, they enter the heart of Andoria. Buried beneath the surface, the main city is sprawling, a collection of dark stone buildings and elegantly crafted homes that Itachi studies with interest as they trek towards the capitol building. Around them a thick crowd of Andorians go about their day, though Itachi doesn’t miss the wary looks many of the citizens cast his way as they pass. He supposes he can’t blame them, but even logic can’t fully take the sting of their judgment away. 

Unsurprisingly, Shisui shares none of his second-in-command’s disquiet, casually trailing behind their guides as if he were simply walking the halls of his ship. He makes conversation with the Andorians when necessary, but otherwise seems content to hold his tongue. It’s such an uncharacteristic choice it makes Itachi feel a bit out of sorts. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d become to Shisui’s seemingly endless stream of chatter until it ceased, and he takes both Shisui and himself by surprise when he asks, unprompted, “Have you been to Andoria before, Captain?”

Shisui blinks, shocked, but quickly recovers. “Once or twice, back when I was just a grunt,” he says. “Nearly fucking froze to death in the cold; I thought Massachusetts winters were bad, but this place is something else.” 

“It is a particularly harsh climate,” Itachi agrees. “Snow on Vulcan is never this intense.” 

“Is this your way of telling me you’ve never made a snow angel before?” 

This time it’s Itachi’s turn to be thrown off-balance. “I am… unfamiliar with the concept,” he admits, perplexed by the look of horror that crosses Shisui’s face at the statement. 

“That is the saddest damn thing I’ve ever heard,” the man declares. “When all of this is said and done, we’re remedying this injustice immediately.”

“Something tells me I should be concerned by this plan,” Itachi says, and Shisui confirms his instinct by winking in reply. 

The meeting with the Andorian councilmen is perfectly average, so long as Itachi doesn’t dwell on the fact that roughly a century ago said conference room was probably used to draft plans of war against his homeland. No member of the council speaks to Itachi, which he supposes makes sense; Shisui is the Captain, the one primarily responsible for executing the mission bestowed upon the Corvus. Even so, something feels deliberate about their lack of engagement, especially given the fact that if any Andorian so much as glances at Itachi their gaze is as cold as their planet’s climate. 

For his part Itachi sits at Shisui’s side and listens intensely, but doesn’t directly partake in the discussion. A lifetime spent as an oddity in his own culture, years spent tuning out whispers and ignoring stares from people who regarded him as a freak, has more than prepared him for moments like this. In the grand scheme of things it’s simply yet another bitter pill he must swallow, and Itachi is far too pragmatic to get worked up over every indignity he’s forced to endure.

However, he learns very quickly that Shisui approaches such situations a bit… differently. In hindsight, it shouldn’t surprise Itachi that the man has such an emotional reaction; to act without thinking is merely human nature. But it still takes the breath out of his lungs when towards the end of the proceedings Shisui nearly bungles their entire deal by jumping to Itachi’s defense. 

It starts with what Itachi suspects the Andorians view to be a simple request: during any future dealings between the Empire and the Corvus, they state, it would be highly appreciated if Shisui did not bring any Vulcan company along with him. Objectively, Itachi can understand the sentiment behind such a petition but, just as with the stares from the cityfolk before, objectivity does little to quell the icy fury he feels at the pronouncement. 

The sentiment appears to be one shared by Shisui. Itachi feels the man stiffen beside him, wincing as the Captain asks, “Excuse me?”

“Given the history of relations between our peoples I’m sure you can understand our… dilemma,” the Andorian leader, the one who proposed Itachi’s exclusion in the first place, replies. 

“Oh, I understand it,” Shisui says. “I just think it’s bullshit.”

In that moment, Itachi decides to revise his previous assessment of Shisui; not only is the man a fool, he is in fact the dumbest person Itachi has ever met in his life. 

Seven nigh-identical pairs of black eyes meet one another in wordless conversation. Itachi mentally calculates the probability of himself and Shisui making it out of their current predicament alive and in one piece, and finds their chances rather--lacking. If Shisui shares any of his second-in-command’s concerns, considering his narrowed eyes and clenched set of his jaw he certainly doesn’t show it. “We meant no offense,” one of the councilman says mildly, though Itachi has no doubt that inside the man is seething at Shisui’s rebuke. 

“I find it very hard to believe that someone as intelligent as yourself can’t see the offense in your statement,” Shisui counters, digging his grave even further, and though his voice is even there’s a very clear level of anger in his tone. “I’m more than happy to take on this load for you, but if we’re going to work together I expect you to respect every person on my ship.”

The assembled Andorians all look to Itachi, who stays mum, convinced at least one of them should be capable of keeping their mouths shut. 

“Understood, Captain,” the Andorian leader says, after an agonizing lull in conversation, and some of the awkwardness drains from the room. 

The matter seemingly settled to mutual satisfaction, the discussions resume between the assembled parties. The rest of the meeting passes by in a blur because, while Itachi tries to focus on the details of the agreement, all he can think about is the fact that once they get back to the Corvus he is absolutely, positively going to kill Shisui. 

*

  
As a person who prizes rationality over sensitivity Itachi can admit, at least to himself, that he possesses a bit of an arrogant streak; for as long as he has lived he’s always been one to enjoy success, never minding a chance to display his prowess in the variousfields he’s gifted in. And, though it’s not a trait he favors in himself, he can also admit that he will sometimes react… poorly, when said pride is wounded. 

That in mind, Itachi is perhaps snippier than usual as they go through the process of arranging the Andorian cargo and boarding the Corvus once more. He catches Shisui watching him in between bouts of bossing around members of the Andorian Agricultural Ministry, but makes the perhaps unprofessional choice to ignore his Captain until such attention is truly necessary. 

Wisely, Shisui doesn’t attempt to speak to him until they’ve pulled off the Andorian surface and are in orbit once again. They’re just outside the entrance to the main deck when the man stops in his tracks, nearly causing Itachi, who had been following close behind, to crash into him. He frowns as Shisui turns to face him and asks, “You okay?”

Itachi stares at him, lips pursing in barely-disguised irritation. “While I am surprised you have not realized this by now, please allow me to clearly state a fact about myself so we are both ‘on the same page,’ as you humans say,” he replies, his previously bottled-up emotions spilling out in an unusually messy display. “I do not allow myself to be rattled by everything in this world that may cause me distress. Unlike you, I certainly would not let my personal issues get the best of me and risk damaging a galactic alliance over a minor offense. Considering this fact, I would suggest you spend less time worrying about my feelings and focus your energy on your own actions instead.” 

Without waiting for a response, Itachi unlocks the bridge door and steps inside. After a day spent in the snowy natural light of Andoria it’s disorienting to be back on the ship surrounded by the artificial brightness of their everyday life. While Asuma is at the helm, his steering steady as always, Itachi isn’t surprised to see he’s joined by both Ino and Anko. The former is no doubt waiting for an update on the mission while the latter appears to be showing off her talent for doing everything except her actual job. Shisui trails behind Itachi like a scolded child, though perhaps that’s merely Itachi’s own perception of the situation warping reality. Either way, he believes the comparison fits. 

Ino looks up as the pair enter. “How did the meeting go?” she asks, unaware of the landmine she’s stepped on. 

Shisui snorts. “Other than the fact we almost died in a snowbank and then had to deal with a bunch of close-minded pricks, it was great.” 

“Wait, what?” Ino looks to Itachi, questions written all over her face, and he sighs heavily in response.

“Tell me you didn’t start shit with the Andorians,” Asuma says, frowning. 

Shisui says, “no, I didn’t,” in the same second that Itachi replies, “yes, he did,” and the two of them glare at each other for a long moment that every crew member in sight is forced to suffer through. From her place against the wall Anko lets out a very loud, very obvious cough, though both Itachi and Shisui ignore her. 

“Do you people not have jobs to do?” Shisui asks, annoyed. “Because I, as your boss, am almost positive that you have jobs to do.” 

“We have jobs to do,” Chouji, a very nervy Helm Officer to Asuma’s left, answers in a wobbly tone of voice.

“Then do them.” With that, Shisui steps off the bridge, the door clicking audibly in the silence left in his wake. It’s the first time since they’ve boarded that Itachi has seen Shisui get short-tempered with the crew, and a heavy pang reverberates inside his chest at the realization. Yet another sensation he cannot place, he thinks, frustration spiking. 

After a pause, Asuma breaks the tension by asking, “Sooo, what the hell happened back there?” 

While the last thing he wants to do is give his subordinates a play-by-play of his humiliation, logically Itachi recognizes he needs to give them some sort of explanation for the melodrama spilling all over their workplace. “Given the unfortunate history between the Vulcan and Andorian races, the council was less than pleased by my presence in their homeland. While this is understandable the Captain, being the way that he is, objected to their attitude and made his thoughts on the matter quite clear.” 

“Moron,” Anko says, and Itachi is disturbed by the knowledge that for once he agrees with her. 

“Was it really that bad?” Ino asks, no doubt mentally calculating the amount of damage control she will have to do to salvage relations between the ship and the Empire. 

“It was not ideal,” Itachi answers. “But I suppose it could have been worse. We will see what comes of the exchange in time.” 

“If nothing else here’s hoping the icicle jammed up his ass thaws soon,” Anko says with an eyeroll, but eventually obliges Shisui’s prior request and slinks back to the Security Department. Whether she will actually accomplish any of her assignments for the day, however, remains to be seen. 

Once the melodrama of he and Shisui’s arrival passes, the crew quickly settles back down. Dismally Itachi realizes that his day is far from over, and there’s still plenty of work left to be done. But despite his initial reluctance it’s actually a relief to fall into his routine and set aside the ugly tangle of emotions from earlier in the day. So, Itachi completes each one of his tasks with the same methodical focus as always, moving through problem after problem as the hours drag on. 

By the end of his shift Itachi is pleasantly exhausted, his body tired from the sheer amount of walking he’s forced to do on a daily basis to cross the full length of the ship. Despite the physical satisfaction he’s troubled to discover his mind is anything but spent, and predictably his thoughts drift back to the absolute disaster that was his morning. Such thoughts are only magnified by the knowledge that he will soon be face-to-face with Shisui to deliver his scheduled end-of-day report. 

Sitting at his desk as he attempts to string together words that normally come much easier, Itachi can’t help but connect the dots between the Andorian incident and a similar, though much more violent incident from he and Shisui’s shared youth. While he will never acknowledge it, deep down at least part of his ill will towards Shisui stems from the fact the man simply had the bad luck to witness Itachi bruised and vulnerable on that fated day, and rushed in to defend him. All these years later and for reasons Itachi can’t even begin to fathom Shisui is _ still _ defending him. It makes Itachi angry, because he doesn’t want or need Shisui’s protection; he’s neither a damsel in distress nor a delicate lamb incapable of caring for himself. 

Rather than dwell on such unpleasantries any longer, Itachi simply puts the finishing touches on his report and walks out of his quarters. It will be like ripping off a bandage, to borrow a phrase his mother has always used, quick and painless. 

The distance between the Captain’s room and his own is regrettably short, and it isn’t long before Itachi finds himself standing outside Shisui’s door. Sighing heavily, he knocks, and isn’t surprised to quickly be let inside. 

What is a surprise, however, is the relatively muted reception he receives once he enters. Traditionally Shisui either looks far too pleased with himself or far too amused by Itachi’s general existence--or, on truly terrible days, both--but tonight the Captain seems smaller and significantly less talkative. It would be a welcome change if it wasn’t utterly disconcerting. Itachi’s unease only continues to grow as Shisui wordlessly accepts the dossier and flips through the page in the loudest silence Itachi has ever experienced.

Once he’s finished, Shisui gently closes the pages, and just when Itachi suspects he will truly say nothing at all he announces, “You were right, you know. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Itachi blinks, more than a little stunned by the unexpected turn in conversation. Of all the ways his shift could have ended Itachi never would have predicted he would finish the day facing a cowed and contrite Shisui. But here he is and despite wondering if the world is in fact ending Itachi knows he must pull it together and respond. “I… am glad you agree,” he replies, the words stilted and most likely said far too late. 

“I just… I know what it’s like, when people shit on you for things you can’t control. It’s fucking awful, and I didn’t want you to have to sit there and listen to it. But it wasn’t my place to jump in, so. I’m sorry. For doing that.”

Looking at Shisui’s abashed face, his too-long lashes covering his downcast eyes, Itachi feels as if he has been kicked in the head--repeatedly. When he opens his mouth to reply, not a single word comes out. So he simply stays like that, lips parted and frozen in place. 

Logically, in that moment nothing changes between them. Years of resentment and annoyance do not magically fade away, leaving fond acceptance in their wake. Itachi does not suddenly think Shisui Uchiha is the Universe’s own personal gift to Starfleet, nor does he believe that he is blessed to be in the man’s command. But perhaps his perceptions begin to shift, just a bit, and while Itachi is at times stubborn he has never been one to turn his back on clearly-presented evidence. 

He has asked himself many, _ many _ times why, of all the ships in all the worlds, he chose _ this _ one with _ this _ man on it. The answer, though he’s tried to deny it, has always been easier to grasp than he would like to admit. Whenever he questions his seemingly irrational decision to give up his predestined elite life, he remembers sitting across from the boy he hated who had somehow turned into a man who was self-aware of his own flaws and asking for Itachi’s help. While he might never like Shisui, a respect Itachi hadn’t before possessed for him blossomed in his chest and slowly, despite all odds, grew inside him with each passing day. 

It was the potential Shisui had to be a good leader, the elusive greatness that had frustrated Itachi throughout their school years, that drew him to _ this _ ship with _ this _ Captain. And, while nothing actually changes in that moment, in a way he supposes everything does, because it’s in that moment where Itachi realizes he was _ right_.

Itachi suddenly becomes acutely aware of just how long the silence has gone on between them and clears his throat. “I do not need to tell you that was a foolish stance to take,” he begins. “It is unwise to sow seeds of discord with a high-ranking, heavily connected Federation planet, especially not at the beginning of a five year journey.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Shisui interrupts moodily. “I’m literally in the middle of apologizing to you for it.” 

It takes a Herculean effort to prevent Itachi from rolling his eyes; perhaps his glowing reevaluation of Shisui came a little too soon. “Your defense of my person was reckless and unnecessary, and as your First Officer I cannot endorse it. That being said…” Dread fills Itachi as he approaches the words he knows he must say. He shifts his gaze to the floor, wholly unable to even look at Shisui as he continues, “I believe I should thank you for the courtesy nonetheless.”

This time it’s Shisui’s turn to be silent. For once he has no clever retort, instead remaining speechless for such a worrying length of time Itachi has no choice but to meet his eyes. The man gapes at Itachi, which he supposes is a fair reaction; for all the years they’ve known each other this is the closest he’s come to giving Shisui kind words. Really, Itachi would find his expression comical if the openness in Shisui’s face didn’t have him fidgeting in discomfort. 

“I mean… you don’t have to thank me for displaying basic common decency,” Shisui says finally, forehead creased in confusion. The gesture is accentuated by the way his unruly dark hair, damp from what Itachi assumes was an earlier shower, curls around his face, making him look younger and oddly vulnerable. “But you’re welcome, I guess.” 

Standing across from an unguarded Shisui the same burning, sick feeling from the previous day flickers inside Itachi. This time it spreads further, a heat that crawls up his neck and prickles across his face, and quite honestly he would rather die than analyze why any of this is happening. “Is there anything else you require of me?” he asks, throat tight; vaguely he wonders if he’s simply having a very prolonged and elaborate allergic reaction to Shisui’s mere existence. 

Like a spell being broken, Shisui looks away, shaking his head. “No,” he says softly. “That was all.” 

“Then please excuse me,” Itachi says, and for the very first time doesn’t actually wait for an official dismissal before making a hasty escape.

Once safely inside his own quarters, Itachi strides into his bathroom and runs the faucet. The cool water is a relief as it pools in his hands, even more so as it splashes over his overheated cheeks. That relief, sweet as it is, disappears in a puff of smoke as he accidentally gets a glimpse of his own reflection. His normally immaculate hair is a mess, black strands threaded around his face in sloppy damp layers, to say nothing of his wide eyes and furrowed brow. But the absolute worst part are the twin splotches of dark green flush on both sides of his face, undeniable under the glow of the room’s fluorescent lights. 

Maybe he was right the first time, Itachi thinks, scowling as he reaches for a hand towel. 

Maybe he really hates Shisui after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the 'itachi is gay and clueless' power hour everyone, enjoy your stay
> 
> ANYWAY this chapter was an absolute pain in the ass to write but here we are. i've made some changes to the story to include expanded tags for newer characters and also to specify how long this part of the series will be, since i have become incapable of creating anything short and this series is going to be fucking massive (when i say 'massive' i mean MASSIVE--i storyboarded everything out and this motherfucker will be a combined twenty-five chapters minimum if i manage to finish it. what a mess i've made for myself) ALSO there's some wonderful fanart by my wonderful girlfriend [here](https://twitter.com/l3xtacyy/status/1166104897890246657) that you should check out.
> 
> That Said, i've gotten some really amazing feedback for this fic so far, so thank you all for the wonderful comments and kudos, i can't express how much it's appreciated. see you next time!


	4. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are so viciously fucked, he thinks gloomily. Out loud, he says, “Hey, it could be worse, right? I mean, we have enough rations for four people, plus two of the brightest minds in Starfleet. We’ll figure this out in no time.”
> 
> Itachi merely stares at him, looking both unconvinced and unimpressed.
> 
> “See, that’s the spirit,” Shisui says cheerfully.

**stardate 2266.169**

The Borderland is, to put it charitably, a complete and utter shithole. Whatever waste of space they’re currently trapped on is a dump, perhaps the biggest dump in the history of dumps. They’ve spent what feels like years walking this sun-bleached wasteland, picking through garbage in a vain attempt to find something, _ anything_, they can use to keep their miserable selves alive, and Shisui is tired. He’s tired of wandering aimlessly, tired of failing to connect to the Corvus and, more than anything, _ very _tired of Itachi. 

Currently the Vulcan is once again inspecting their rapidly-dwindling rations, a depressing task that Shisui is happy to leave to him. “According to my calculations,” Itachi begins gravely. “If we continue on the path of limiting our consumption, we have approximately three days and six hours left of water and one day and eight hours left of food. Once those are gone--”

“We die,” Shisui finishes flatly. “Yeah, I get it.” 

“You sound terribly concerned by the prospect,” Itachi replies, tone clipped, and Shisui turns his head to look at him, wincing at the bright light reflected off a beer can sitting by Itachi’s feet. It’s a testament to the desperate nature of their situation that his normally prim and proper XO looks like such a fucking mess. His skin is unnaturally pale, a sickly shade of green that makes the olive smudges beneath his dark eyes even more prominent, and his hair is thick with dirt and grease. Not that Shisui imagines he’s any more of a pretty picture right now, but he’s learned he can usually measure the direness of a situation by Itachi’s level of composure. And, since Itachi has the civility of a feral animal at the moment, most likely they are screwed beyond the telling of it. 

“You know what? You’re right,” Shisui snaps, his tenuous patience fraying even further. “Actually, I’m positively tickled by the fact that I’m going to kick the bucket on this godforsaken trashcan with you as my only companion.” 

To his credit, Itachi scowls, but says nothing further, leaving Shisui to a moment of self-reflection--at least, as much self-reflection as he can muster, considering the fact that his brain is cooking inside his skull. 

When Shisui first recruited Itachi to the Corvus, he told Itachi it didn’t matter if the man liked him. And, for a while, it actually _hadn’t _mattered. But after over a hundred days in space, the weight of his second-in-command’s dislike is starting to… well, _ weigh _on him. Of course, said weight is now especially heavy considering the two of them are currently alone and trapped on a seemingly-abandoned planet with no hope of escape.

So, okay. Maybe going out of his way to reel in someone who couldn’t tolerate him under the best of circumstances wasn’t Shisui’s brightest idea. 

_ Fuck it_, he thinks, closing his eyes and surrendering to the eternal summer heat. _ You win some, you lose some_. 

*

**ten days earlier.**

If there’s anything Shisui has learned after over a decade in Starfleet’s employ it’s that despite the Federation’s noble ideals at the end of the day it always comes down to politics. For all their lovely promises of peace, unity, and exploration, the business of building a collective will always involve at least a smidge of cloak and dagger. That in mind, it’s no surprise to him when the Corvus gets roped into a mission to strengthen alliances with the latest Federation planet, Coridan. 

Admittedly Shisui hasn’t been following the details of the Coridan saga beat for beat, more than a little preoccupied by the small task of keeping a few thousand people from dying slow and ugly in the vast emptiness of space. But he gets a crash course on the chain of events that have led to the planet’s inclusion in the Federation when his ship is assigned to combat, of all things, space pirates. Though a relatively small planet, Coridan has managed to find itself in the middle of a giant mess; with its coveted abundance of dilithium and its role in numerous intergalactic conflicts, Coridan had been a controversial admission to the Federation, entering the alliance by the skin of their teeth courtesy of Ambassador Fugaku. 

And then, of course, there’s the space pirates. 

Orion pillaging of Coridan had been something of an open secret for the last century, though like many societal ills people preferred to avert their eyes rather than deal with the dilemma sitting right in front of them. But once Coridan was officially a Federation planet the organization had something of a PR nightmare on their hands--after all, how could the Federation claim in good faith to protect their citizens when an organized crime syndicate was zipping around the woods of Coridan unchecked? 

So that’s where the Corvus came in. All in all, the mission sounds exceptionally simple: get in, expose the Orion smugglers, arrest the hell out of them, and get out. But years and years of engaging in Starfleet shenanigans has Shisui expecting exactly the opposite. 

An hour after the order comes through Shisui’s sitting in the Captain’s chair, explaining the plan of attack to the bridge and his senior staff while working through the third coffee of his shift. He scowls as he finishes his last sip; Anko’s caffeine addiction is clearly rubbing off on him.

“Are we gonna die?” Chouji asks, eyes comically wide, before Shisui’s even finished speaking. 

“Maybe,” Anko says, shrugging her shoulders. At Ino and Asuma’s glares, she snorts and adds, “What do you want me to do, lie?”

“No one is going to die,” Shisui assures the young pilot, making very pointed eye contact with Anko, and she purses her lips, clearly put-out. 

“Except maybe some Orion smugglers,” Kisame cuts in, smiling with an unnerving amount of pointy fangs on display.

“Except maybe some Orion smugglers,” Shisui agrees, then frowns; when the hell did Kisame even _ get _ here? For a giant fish-hybrid the man had an unnerving talent to appear out of literal nowhere. 

Shaking his head, he continues, “That’s an absolute last resort, though; our goal is to try and keep the loss of life to a minimum.” 

“Well, that’s boring,” Kisame huffs.

“Agreed,” Anko says, though Shisui chooses to ignore them both for the sake of his own sanity.

“I have concerns about this assignment,” Itachi pipes up from behind Shisui, and he cranes his neck to look at his First Officer. The Vulcan had been shockingly quiet during much of the meeting, clearly biding his time and waiting for the exact moment to cut his Captain down to shreds. Typical. 

“Here we go again,” Anko mutters, while Ino sighs heavily. At this point the high ranking members of the crew (and Kisame, who haunts the vessel like a fucking ghost) are more than used to Shisui and Itachi’s constant bickering. 

Shisui bites the inside of his cheek, preemptively annoyed. A little over three months into their mission and somehow Shisui has already found himself reenacting scenes from the end of his parents’ marriage. “Not _ concerns_,” he gasps, the words dripping with sarcasm. “Lemme relay that to Command immediately, I’m sure this new information will change everything.” 

Wisely, Itachi does not take the bait, though Shisui can see the corners of his lips twitch in irritation. “We are a crew of explorers, not diplomats or mercenaries. It is not our objective to meddle in interplanetary conflicts such as this.”

Shisui snorts. “Starfleet was born to meddle in interplanetary conflicts like this,” he says, “and we’re whatever the Federation needs us to be; they say, ‘jump’ and we ask, ‘how high?’”

They’ve been doing this same song and dance since the very beginning: Shisui makes a decision and Itachi questions him. It had been an easy pill to swallow at first; when he’d recruited Itachi, Shisui knew he was, to an extent, courting and cultivating mutiny. He hadn’t wanted a yes man, someone who would go along with his every whim. He wanted someone who would challenge him, push him to be a smarter leader, a better Captain. But there was a difference in constructive criticism and total noncompliance, and for much of their time in orbit Itachi has been swinging dangerously close to the latter. 

Shisui has tried to be tolerant and understanding, he really has. And it hasn’t worked, which is why he has now made a conscious decision to take a sabbatical from doing either of those things. So when Itachi opens his mouth to reply, Shisui cuts him off immediately. “This isn’t up for debate, Itachi,” he states, a cold authority in his tone he doesn’t recognize. “We have orders. Follow them.” 

Itachi stares at him, features frosty, and Shisui refuses to back down from his glare. “Very well, Captain,” he says finally. “Permission to be dismissed?”

“Granted,” Shisui allows, exhaling sharply as Itachi makes a swift departure from the bridge. 

There’s a pregnant pause in the aftermath, which is swiftly broken by Shikamaru--who Shisui is pretty sure had been pretending to be asleep for the majority of the discussion--whispering “yikes” in Ino’s ear. Not for the first time Shisui wonders how Shikaku Nara, the biggest hardass Shisui has ever served with, managed to raise a kid like that. 

Ino simply responds with a hard punch to his shoulder, because she is wonderful and definitely Shisui’s favorite amongst his Chief Staff. 

In addition to being his favorite, Ino also has the absolute best brain to pick for ideas, which makes her an easy choice when Shisui considers seeking an outside perspective on the Coridan affair/the shitstorm they may or may not be in for. Like most of his personal selections, Ino was something of a gamble. A few years younger than Shisui himself, she had spent her years since graduation cutting her teeth on menial office work while acquiring various languages with an almost ruthless single-mindedness. Ino’s a hard worker, intelligent and detail-oriented, which makes it an even bigger shame that so much of her career has been shadowed by her family ties, her successes dwarfed by having the legendary Captain Inoichi Yamanaka for a father. Maybe that’s part of why Shisui likes her so much; he of all people knows what it’s like to move through the world under the suffocating weight of your family’s legacy.

Having precisely zero desire to continue marianting in the tension Itachi has left behind, Shisui takes his own leave to perform his morning (or what passes for “morning” in space) inspection of the Corvus. As he walks the halls of the ship with Ino by his side, Shisui begins, “I apologize for the spectacle back there; I imagine it can’t be easy to deal with, given your abilities.” 

Ino snorts. “With all due respect, I’m offended that you think your childish squabbling is enough to unnerve me.” 

“Well, at least someone on this ship respects me,” he quips. “So, what’s your take on the conflict?” 

“Do you want me to be honest?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I would expect nothing less than the truth from a Betazoid.”

“Good,” she says, adding, “because I think you’re both stupid and need to grow up.” 

Shisui blinks, feeling like Ino has driven one of her impeccable high heels into the side of his head. “I was referring to the Coridan situation,” he says, testily. 

Ino folds her lips in a truly terrible attempt at covering up a smile. “I see,” she replies. “In that case, I agree that we can’t just turn our back on direct orders merely because of a bad feeling. But I don’t think we should let our guard down, either; we’re stepping into murky waters, so we’d best tread carefully.”

“What would your recommendations be?” 

“Well, I suppose I’d try to play it safe, perhaps take a small team to avoid risking the crew and ship’s safety in case our assignment goes wrong.”

Shisui brightens, more than a little pleased that they’ve come to the same conclusion. “You,” he says, “are a very smart woman. Have I told you that lately?”

Ino beams. “You could stand to say it more often,” she counters, lifting her chin up with pride. 

“Duly noted, Officer Yamanaka.” Rounding a corner, Shisui looks into the Science Lab and catches a glimpse of Karin covered in some sort of alien substance and looking delighted. Sighing, he says, “Prepare a correspondence for the Chancellor to inform him that due to the fraught nature of Coridan’s current political climate, we believe it best to have as little Federation presence as possible. I trust you to put your very best spin on the situation, Ino.” 

With both a quick salute and an expression of disgust, Ino turns on her heel to take her leave, but not before adding, “I stand by my previous, non-Coridanite assessment, by the way.” 

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Shisui says dryly, and pretends not to hear Ino chuckling to herself as she disappears out of sight. 

So much for respect after all. 

*

Later that evening, Shisui is still stewing about Itachi.

The thing that really pisses Shisui off is the fact that, despite his doubts and worries, at the end of the day he knows he’s not a bad Captain. He follows all of Starfleet’s orders to the best of his abilities, improvising when necessary for the safety of his crew and the success of his mission. He gives clear instructions to his staff and goes out of his way not to place undue burden on them. He’s forgiving of his crewmembers’ mistakes, especially the greener recruits, and is patient with the learning curve of adapting to life in orbit--for the most part. Honestly, the jury’s still out on whether or not he’s going to cave to his lesser instincts and punt Suigetsu, one of Anko’s loud-mouthed Security flunkies, into the icy blackness of space. 

All in all, Shisui feels like he’s doing a pretty solid job of keeping the Corvus on track, a sentiment that’s been both implied and explicitly expressed by his superiors and the majority of his staff--everyone but Itachi, who acts like Shisui is nothing but shit on his shoe. Oh, and also Kabuto, but really, Shisui doesn’t count him; the Cardassian’s just like that with everyone save for Itachi. It’s like they’re in bitchy solidarity with each other or something. 

The point is, Shisui has made an effort to be objective about the situation. He has examined, cross-examined, and _ cross _ -cross-examined nearly every move he’s made since becoming the captain of the Corvus, along with the handful of interactions he had with Itachi in their shared youth that he remembers with perhaps too much clarity. Anko has told him that such a habit was unnecessary and also a little disturbing, but Shisui values being a detail-oriented person. That and _ maybe _ he has more than a little anxiety and _ maybe _ he has a history of using his career to self-soothe. Sue him. 

Truthfully, it’s not as if he really expected himself and Itachi to get along. Sure, maybe in his heart of hearts, he had hoped that the warmth of his charm would melt Itachi’s cold exterior and together they would form a sweeping connection in the most star-crossed of fashions. But if so, that’s between Shisui and the gods he does not believe in. Realistically, Shisui knew the best he could expect would be tolerance, and he had made his peace with that. 

But he can’t even get _ that_, not with his hard work or even temperament or fashionably messy curls, and Shisui is so exhausted he wants to sink into his Captain’s chair and disappear, never to be seen again. 

Tragically, that’s not an option, so instead of abandoning his corporeal form and embracing the sweet release of death, Shisui stares at the blankness of his computer screen, trying to will words to appear on it. Reports have always been a strength of his, born out of both genuine cleverness and a talent for talking out of his ass, but today his Captain’s log eludes him. 

“Captain’s log, Stardate 2266.159. The time for Itachi and I’s predestined duel to the death draws near. While he has the strength of three grown men and will probably Vulcan-pinch me into an early grave, I am an infamous hair-puller and will undoubtedly put up a valiant fight.” Shisui looks at the letters staring back at him, black font bright and incriminating against the blinding white light, and deletes them with a sigh.

Thankfully a knock at his door saves him from his workload/brooding, and Shisui is wholly unsurprised to see Anko on the other side. “Who are you talking to?” she asks, dark eyebrows knitted in concern.

“The void,” Shisui answers bluntly, then tilts his head curiously when he catches sight of the bottle of dark brown liquid in Anko’s left hand. “What do you want?” he pries, suspicious. 

“To get you drunk and steal everything you own,” she admits, shameless, before reaching into her right pocket to pull out a worn deck of cards that Shisui is unfortunately very familiar with. 

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the Captain of this vessel. Unlike some people, I can’t spend all my time drinking and fucking around.”

“Oh, lighten up, would you? You’re off the clock, _ Captain_,” Anko says, rolling her eyes. 

Gambling with Anko is a dangerous pastime, and Shisui knows better than anyone how ruthless a cardshark she can be. That said… “Fine,” he allows, “but only if I get to complain about Itachi _ and _ you’re not allowed to deal.”

“God, you’ve gotten boring ever since they gave you this tin can.” Shisui simply stares at her, waiting, until she clicks her tongue in irritation, and mutters, “Ugh, fine, whatever,” as she steps inside.

There’s something pleasantly predictable about Anko’s company. At this point they have a familiar and comfortable camaraderie developed over two decades, multiple promotions, and numerous personal crises. Not for the first time Shisui’s grateful that Anko is by his side for the complete disaster this assignment is turning into, even if the woman is robbing him blind in the meantime. 

After half a bottle of whiskey and a solid forty-five minutes of non-stop venting, Shisui's defenses are dangerously low, and he’s slipped on his “no dealing for Anko” rule. “He’s just so fucking smug, you know?” he says, not for the first time, as he sips his drink and waits for Anko to lay the cards out. 

“I for one _ never _ would have predicted the self-righteous asshole would be a self-righteous asshole,” Anko says, smirking as she shuffles the deck. “Don’t for one second forget you brought this on yourself, Uchiha.”

“If you say ‘I told you so,’ I will throw you out the airlock,” Shisui retorts, grimacing as he looks at his predictably terrible hand.

“See, that’s the beauty of this situation: I don’t even need to say it. The events speak for themselves.”

“Why do I even bother playing with you?” he asks. “You always cheat.”

“I cannot believe you would accuse me of such a lowly thing.”

“Anko, all you _ do _ are lowly things.”

She grins, the expression all teeth and mischief. “Maybe so,” Anko allows, and proceeds to spend the next hour and a half cleaning Shisui out of more earnings than he’d care to admit. 

Later, when Shisui’s draped across his bed feeling loose-limbed and drowsy, he asks, “Do you think it’s all my fault?”

“Oh, totally,” Anko answers cheerfully as she collects their glasses to deposit them into the sink. “It’s, like, one hundred percent your fault.” 

Shisui peers at her, eyes narrowed, though the expression is no doubt neutered by how glazed said eyes are. “You’re a terrible friend,” he whines, to which Anko laughs loudly and with great enthusiasm, because she is a sadist.

“No, I’d be a terrible friend if I let you make bad choices and scamper around the universe like a dumbass,” she argues, crossing the suite to leave a glass of water and a handful of aspirin on his bedside table. _ Still a sadist_, Shisui thinks, grateful yet sullen. 

“Is this your way of telling me I should apologize to him?”

Anko reaches over to pat his cheek and says, sugary sweet, “Don’t be sorry, just be better,” before slipping out the door. 

Shisui groans and crawls under his sheets, not even bothering to shed his Starfleet uniform before falling asleep. 

He really hates it when Anko’s right. 

*

Itachi’s in his lab the next morning when Shisui goes looking for him, because _ of course _ he is. Honestly, at this point Shisui wouldn’t be surprised if Itachi actually lived in his lab for all the time the man spends inside of it. 

Then again, Shisui can’t really judge anyone for their life choices considering he’s spent his own morning battling a mild hangover and rehearsing speeches designed to win his second-in-command’s favor to himself while looking in the mirror.

Blessedly, Itachi appears to be alone in his work for once; the only thing that could make this crow-eating experience worse would be an audience. Shisui slides open the door and pokes his head in, but shockingly Itachi is so engrossed in whatever project he’s currently fiddling with to notice him---that or he’s so disgusted with Shisui he straight-up refuses to acknowledge his existence. At this point both possibilities are equally viable. 

Grimacing, Shisui clears his throat, and Itachi’s stupidly perfect Vulcan bowl-cutted head pops up immediately. “Captain,” he says. “Was there something you needed?”

“Not… exactly,” Shisui replies, then mentally kicks himself; two hours of practicing and preparing for this conversation and he’s already blown it. 

Deciding to throw caution to the wind and swallow what’s left of his pride, he starts, “The truth is I wanted to apologize for what happened on the bridge yesterday. You raised valid points about our mission to Coridan, and I should have taken your input more seriously. So, I’m sorry.” 

He’s hoping the words, messy and scrambled as they are, will be enough of an olive branch to get the trip to Coridan off on the right foot. But, of course, they aren’t, and Itachi simply stares at him, as annoyingly expressionless as ever. 

Fucking Vulcans. 

“I see,” Itachi responds finally, and then… doesn’t say anything else. 

At all. 

Shisui decides to give him the benefit of the doubt; as a person with a sometimes disgusting amount of pride he can empathize with difficulties in admitting wrong-doing. But rather than admitting anything Itachi simply continues to watch Shisui in unimpressed silence. Feeling a headache building at his temple, Shisui scowls and prods, “Is there maybe something you’d like to say to me in return?”

“I do not believe there is,” Itachi replies, a muscle working in his throat, as if _ he’s _ the one suffering in this situation.

The whole thing is so unbelievable for a moment Shisui genuinely feels insane. “_Okay_,” he breathes out, frustration coiling in his chest.

“If that is all?” Itachi has the audacity to ask. 

“Yep, sure is.” Shisui closes his eyes, because if he has to look at Itachi’s little green face for another second he’s going to snap. “Be ready to land in a few hours.” Utterly lost for words, he storms out of the lab and maintains the same speed on the long walk to the bridge.

Shisui finds Anko on deck, no doubt harassing a visibly fearful Chouji. “Do I have to spray you with a water bottle to get you to stop tormenting my poor crewmembers?” he asks. 

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about your own conduct?” she counters, and Shisui sighs. 

“Yeah, about that: for the record, you were wrong and also I hate you.” 

“Don’t blame me for your fuckups, Uchiha,” Anko says, but mercifully drops the subject as the Corvus enters Coridan’s atmosphere. In hindsight, it’s perhaps the only decent thing that happens to Shisui all day, because in the blink of an eye the entire expedition promptly goes to hell.

*

When Shisui was eight, just before the complete and total collapse of his family structure as he knew it, he and his parents had taken a trip to Florida to visit some of his father’s relatives. The whole experience had been unpleasant, from the unrelenting car sickness on the drive down to the itchy crawl of motel sheets night after night, to say nothing of his extended family’s oh so welcoming nature. But what Shisui remembers the most viscerally is the sticky air and swampy terrain, the way it clung to his skin and filled up his lungs. He also remembers hating it very, _ very _ much. 

Visions of that unfortunate journey fill Shisui’s head as he and a handful of his staff make the journey through the soggy soil of Coridan. For all his travels, he’s never been on the planet before, and given the fact that he’s knee-deep in green sludge he’s gotta admit he’s not impressed.

It’s certainly a sentiment that appears to be shared amongst the team he’s assembled for the trek. “Remind me to never do anything for you ever again,” Anko says, grimacing as she steps on something particularly… _ squelchy_. 

“Ugh, seconded,” Ino adds, no doubt thankful everyone had been loaned traditional Coridanite clothing to complete their mission rather than wearing her Starfleet uniform; if Shisui had ordered her to march through goo in a miniskirt he would never hear the end of it. 

“C’mon, ladies,” Shisui replies, silently praying the bumpy creature slithering around the murky water a few yards away isn’t some sort of mutant space alligator. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back on the Corvus along with my personal hygiene,” Ino retorts, a frown evident in her voice as she says, “Sakura will never let me hear the end of this.” 

“Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand,” Itachi suggests, and Shisui resolves to feed him to the not-alligator should the need arise. 

The task at hand, as it were, appears disturbingly easy: acting on the intel given to them by the Coridanite Chancellor earlier that afternoon, Shisui and his ragtag team were to search the main cave outside of the capitol city the served as the base of operations to find proof of Orion thievery. While he had it on quote “good authority” that said Orion thieves would not be present, Shisui wasn’t eager to test his luck and had decided to take Ino’s suggestion and leave the Corvus in orbit. That way, when the calamity was over, the Coridanites could simply beam them back home. It was a no muss, no fuss plan, so naturally Shisui was prepared for both muss and fuss in equal measures. 

The first snag was, of course, the swamps, but while it was a regretful turn of events it wasn’t a game-changer. What proved to be a bigger problem was the fact that it just so happened that the land outside the capitol, they quickly discovered, was actually a collection of mountains dotted with an impossible number of caves, meaning they would have to search each and every one in order to find the _ actual _ hot bed of Orion activity. No wonder why the Chancellor had sent them with rations; at this rate, they were going to be skipping through muck for days. 

“This absolutely sucks,” Anko says, kicking a clump of unidentified swamp plant for emphasis.

“My thoughts exactly,” Shisui replies, scanning the weathered rocks for any sign of life. “Looks like we have no choice but to check them all out. It’s better to play it safe and stick together so Anko, you’re with--”

“Ino,” Anko announces, and before Shisui can protest he watches as she grabs Ino’s arm and drags her in the opposite direction. Ino, bless her heart, at least has the grace to look guilty, but also does absolutely nothing to stop the madness, thus leaving Shisui open-mouthed, shocked, and, worst of all, alone with Itachi. 

“Sometimes I hate that woman,” Shisui says, after a beat. He glances at Itachi to find his First Officer equally unimpressed and heaves a sigh. “Well, let’s get started,” he mutters, and then they’re off.

It takes the better--or not better, as it were--part of the afternoon, but in that time Shisui and Itachi manage to explore at least a dozen of the caves dotting the Coridanite landscape. Despite his dread at getting stuck with Itachi, Shisui can admit that it’s actually pretty good timing considering the search requires both of them to be silent and focused on their surroundings. 

The majority of their interactions involve nothing more than meaningful eye contact and shaking their heads at each other, a system that turns out to suit them just fine. Only once does Itachi try to talk to him. It’s just after they’ve finished picking through their fifth cave, and also just after Shisui has decided to hell with propriety and stripped off the grimy gray Coridan tunic now completely soaked with sweat. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Itachi staring at him, no doubt disgusted with Shisui for having the gall to do something as plebeian as leak moisture through his pores, but in Shisui’s opinion that’s an Itachi problem and thus he chooses to ignore it.

“I have been thinking,” Itachi begins, tone uncharacteristically tentative, “about our conversation this morning.” 

Shisui glances at him, raising an eyebrow at the way Itachi very noticeably avoids his gaze. By this point in the day Shisui is exhausted, irritated, and covered in slime, miles and miles away from his better nature. So, rather than taking the much-needed opportunity to hash out their issues, he instead chooses to be a complete asshole. “Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand,” he mimics snottily, and is grateful when for once Itachi has no clever retort prepared. 

As soon as they enter the thirteenth cave, Shisui knows something is wrong. By all appearances it’s no different than all the other caves they’ve entered, but it feels off, as if the dark is somehow darker and the air is even more thick and stagnant. He reaches an arm out to keep Itachi from stepping forward and slowly walks backward, never taking his eyes off the sharp curves of the cave’s interior. In the faint light of glowing un-mined dilithium stones he can just barely make out the shadows moving together in tight clusters. 

_ Ah, yes_, he thinks, as the shadows begin speaking to one another in quick snatches of Coridanite, _ there’s the muss and the fuss. _

“Captain,” Itachi says slowly, eyes roaming over the collection of figures emerging from the darkness with their weapons drawn. “I believe we have been tricked.” 

“I believe you are correct, First Officer,” Shisui says as he moves to raise the blaster in his hand, suddenly absurdly grateful he threw his shirt back on two caves ago. “Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse,” he mutters, and that’s when everything goes black. 

*

The first thing Shisui can sense, once he’s conscious again, is heat. It’s not the dry warmth of the Vulcan deserts or the sticky, sweaty humidity that is Boston in August. No, it’s more like an oppressive scalding, as if his entire body has become a hand gripping a hot stove. It doesn’t help that his muscles are heavy and aching, his head throbbing with the lingering pressure of a warp gone wrong, and every part of him hurts as he sits up to take in his surroundings. 

Everything around him appears unnaturally bright, illuminated by the over-saturated sunlight, and Shisui raises a hand to shield his eyes. Once the sunspots have cleared he’s able to see a figure lying a few yards across from him, the body unnaturally still, and with horror he realizes who it is. “Itachi,” he murmurs, climbing up on shaky legs to clumsily run over to the man.

Shisui drops down beside him to rest his fingers against the Vulcan’s neck and is relieved by the sluggish beat of his pulse. There are no obvious injuries present, but Shisui knows that’s not a guarantee they don’t exist, so the faster he can bring Itachi back to consciousness, the better. The bag containing their rations still hangs around Itachi’s neck and for a moment Shisui considers dumping some of their water on Itachi to wake him up. But if they’re trapped where Shisui suspects they are it would be an act of absolute idiocy to waste their resources like that. 

So, with his options limited, Shisui resorts to violence. 

It takes three good smacks before Itachi begins to stir. “Captain,” he croaks, cracking one eye open and somehow managing to look pissy even while struggling to stay awake. “Please stop slapping me.”

“There you are,” Shisui says. He gives Itachi’s cheek another pat for good measure and is quickly rewarded with a swat. “Hey, take it easy, you’re probably concussed.”

“Advice that would hold more weight were it not spoken by the man previously shaking me within an inch of my life,” Itachi retorts, wincing as Shisui helps him sit upright. It’s a sign he’s probably dying considering he doesn’t immediately shake off the arm Shisui has wrapped around his shoulders for support. “Where are we?” he asks, looking at the barren wasteland surrounding them. 

“Great question,” Shisui says. “Wish I had a great answer to go along with it.”

Itachi furrows his brow. “You do not know?”

“Well, I can’t be certain, but I do have a theory. It’s just that my theory completely sucks if I’m right.”

Recognition lights Itachi’s black eyes and he frowns. “The Borderland,” he says. 

“Ding, ding, ding, jackpot.” The Borderland is, for all intents and purposes, the armpit of Alpha Quadrant, known for exactly two things: one, being a massive trash heap and two, being a veritable no-man’s-land because of its proximity to Klingon territory. So, if Shisui’s hunch proves correct--and he’s regrettably sure it will--he and Itachi could be dead men walking, meaning getting the hell off this planet is a matter of utmost priority. 

Even though Shisui’s almost certain it’s a fruitless effort, the first step is to attempt to contact the Corvus. Removing the arm still inexplicably attached to Itachi, he reaches into his pocket and is wholly unsurprised to find his PADD’s screen littered with cracks. “‘Finest craftsmanship in the galaxy,’ my ass,” he mutters, scowling before turning back to Itachi. “What about yours?” 

Itachi blinks, as if startled from thought, and Shisui still isn’t convinced that he’s not suffering from some sort of Vulcan TBI. Moving slowly, he digs through his bag to find his own device and fiddles with the machine for a few moments before concluding, “Though it appears to be in working order there is unfortunately no signal.”

“Of course not. How could we get that lucky?” Shisui rises to his full height, taking note of the twinge in his lower back as he does, and looks around for something, anything, that can help their current predicament. But everywhere he looks he sees only empty, flat land and pale, lifeless soil. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing.

_ We are so viciously fucked_, he thinks gloomily. Out loud, he says, “Hey, it could be worse, right? I mean, we have enough rations for four people, plus two of the brightest minds in Starfleet. We’ll figure this out in no time.”

Itachi merely stares at him, looking both unconvinced and unimpressed.

“See, that’s the spirit,” Shisui says cheerfully. “C’mon, First Officer. Turn that frown upside down and get on your feet. We’ve got a dumpster to explore.”

Getting Itachi to stand up proves to be more of a production than Shisui anticipated. At first the Vulcan can’t seem to put weight on his right leg and predictably gets huffy about Shisui’s attempts to examine it (“I am a trained medical professional,” Itachi insists, “meaning I am perfectly capable of assessing my own health and well-being.” “Suit yourself,” Shisui mutters in return.), and so he’s left to awkwardly watch as Itachi climbs up on wobbly legs. He, of course, will also not allow Shisui to help him walk, meaning they’re forced to move at a snail’s pace as the sun beats down on their backs mercilessly. All in all, they’re off to a great start.

Though it holds no particular significance they agree their landing point will function as something of a basecamp; if nothing else having a starting place is a smart way to determine exactly how much ground they’ve managed to travel. So, as they hobble along, Shisui creates a path made of abandoned shoes (because _ that’s _ not ominous or anything) and various other pieces of waste so they can find their way back. Despite their circumstances being absolute ass, the walk isn’t terrible at first. After so many years with Starfleet doing the absolute wildest shit imaginable taking a hike through a desert that may or may not be a Klingon burial ground isn’t on the list of “Top Ten Most Bizarre Things The Federation Has Subjected Shisui Uchiha To.” Whether it’s because of his disgust with the situation or the blood clot that may or may not be forming in his brain Itachi trails behind him in eerie silence. Were it not for the man’s at times labored breathing Shisui could almost forget he was there. 

Almost.

Shisui is certainly reminded of Itachi’s presence when, after what feels like ages of walking, he stops in his tracks and feels Itachi crash into his back. “What is the problem, Captain?” he asks, surly. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve noticed,” Shisui begins, “that, despite being at this for hours, the sun hasn’t moved at all, have you?” 

“Perhaps the sun simply has a different orbit in this planet’s sky.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, “or maybe it just never sets.”

Itachi says nothing, no doubt doing the mental math to determine exactly how much sun exposure they can take before dying of skin cancer (Shisui doesn’t want to know the odds--he really, _ really _ doesn’t).

“Okay, new plan,” Shisui announces, clapping his hands together. The new plan is to grab whatever cloth and pipe materials they can find and throw them together until some sort of shelter appears. It’s terrible, but hey. Desperate times and all that.

A crease forms between Itachi’s brows as Shisui explains said plan, which is never a good sign. “Considering the state of this planet any number of dangerous microbes could be on those items, diseases simply waiting for a host to inhabit.”

“Love how you waited until _ after _ I’ve spent hours grabbing garbage with my bare hands to bring that point up,” Shisui replies dryly. “Also, I’m sorry, but you’re one of the top three xenobiologists in the galaxy, so I have a hard time believing that Klingon garbage is the worst thing you’ve encountered in your life.”

Itachi gives him an unreadable look. “How did you know my ranking within the field of xenobiology?” he asks.

Sweat that has nothing to do with the sun’s blazing rays forms on Shisui’s scalp. “I’m your boss, I’m _ allowed _ to know these things,” he retorts, a little too defensively. “But that’s not the point. The point is, do you have a better idea or not?”

His second-in-command does not, in fact, have a better idea, so trash house it is. 

They give up the ghost not long after that, and with arms full of old bath mats and snapped curtain rods (seriously, who the _ hell _ is leaving this stuff here?) Shisui forces Itachi to sit on his narrow behind while he crafts what is perhaps the world’s ugliest tent around him. It’s certainly not Shisui’s finest accomplishment, but at least it gets the job done. 

“The statistical probability of our leaving this planet alive rests at 17.68%,” Itachi states as Shisui climbs beneath the cover of their new home. “With each day we remain here that percentage will decrease by roughly 1.42%.”

“Have some faith in our comrades,” Shisui replies, taking the smallest of sips from his canteen even though instinct tells him to down the whole thing in one gulp. “I’m sure they’ll find us.”

“It is not a matter of faith,” Itachi declares haughtily, the mild sunburn forming over the bridge of his nose making him look even more prickly. “It is a matter of logic. I see no value investing myself in idyllic fantasies with no basis in reality.” 

Shisui groans. “How is that you always manage to be the most ‘you’ version of yourself possible?”

“I have no idea what it is you are trying to ask me.” 

“You never do,” he points out wryly. While his companion is decidedly pessimistic about their chances, Shisui refuses to fall victim to such a negative mindset. Sure, the situation isn’t exactly roses and puppy dogs, but in his heart of hearts he really believes they have a solid chance of returning to the Corvus alive and in one piece. And, frankly, Shisui is way too cute and scrappy to die so young. 

They’ll be fine, he just knows it. After all, how hard could it be to simply survive each other’s company until the crew inevitably comes to their rescue?

*

“I would rather perish than spend another moment breathing the same air as you,” Itachi spits, a sentiment Shisui wholeheartedly agrees with, roughly a week and a half into the waking nightmare their lives have become. 

To his credit--and yes, he _ definitely _ wants credit for this--Shisui had managed to keep up his positive outlook for the first three days post-crash landing. Despite Itachi’s continued complaints about Shisui’s various plans to improve their stature and his obsessive counting of their rations, Shisui had been able to cut the man some slack. Was Itachi annoying? Totally and completely. But he was also, despite his cold and rational exterior, no doubt afraid that they really were going to kick the space bucket or worse, because when Klingons were around there was always the possibility of a fate worse than death. 

So Shisui tried to be patient. He tried to be empathetic. He tried to brush off Itachi’s incessant nagging and his twitchy, judgmental eyebrows and the million other little ticks of Itachi’s irritation Shisui wished every second of every day that he wasn’t so attuned to. And, just like all the months on the Corvus previous to their little camping trip, none of it had worked--_ at all _ \--which is why Shisui is currently about ten seconds away from pivoting into some real _ Lord of the Flies _ shit. 

Currently, it’s day fucking _ ten _ and if he doesn’t strangle Itachi to death with his bare hands it will be a literal miracle. It had started with yet another ominous Itachi pronouncement about their dwindling rations-- _ three days and six hours left of water and one day and eight hours left of food_, his brain (un)helpfully parrots, in Itachi’s robotic tone--and had rapidly devolved into knock-down, drag-out, verbal homicide. 

“God, I wish you would,” Shisui yells back. “At least then I could get some peace and quiet before I die a miserable death.” 

Itachi snorts inelegantly. “I suppose it was too much to hope that you would be responsible in our current circumstance.” 

Hot fury pours through Shisui’s body and he quickly climbs to his feet, standing in front of his indignant First Officer. “_‘Responsible_?’” he hisses. “You really have some fucking nerve, you know that? Ever since we crash-landed on this planet, I have been nothing _ but _ responsible for _ both _ of us. All I’ve done is try and figure out ways to keep your pain in the ass self alive while you do nothing but piss and moan about it in return.”

“What a glorious retelling of history,” Itachi replies snippily. “How convenient that it allows you to bury the fact that it is entirely your fault that we are in this predicament.” 

“Oh, would you give it a rest with the Coridan shit already?”

“No, I will not ‘give it a rest,’” Itachi snaps, adding honest to God finger-quotes for emphasis. “From the moment we received this assignment I warned you not to accept it. But rather than allowing me to do my job--the job you have told me more than once you chose me specifically to perform, no less--you have ignored every piece of advice I have given you, thus allowing us to be ambushed and separated from the crew, a misfortune that will no doubt result in our untimely deaths.”

“You are so fucking ignorant, you know that?” Shisui asks. He steps closer to Itachi, who narrows his eyes in return, clearly bracing for a fight. “For all your talk of what’s right and what’s logical, you don’t have a goddamn clue about what Starfleet actually _ is_. You think I can snap my fingers and blow off missions left and right and Command will just be chill with it? Of course not, which is why I made the best decision given the choices I had laid out in front of me, because that is what you _ do _ when you are the Captain of a Federation vessel.”

“And what a Captain you have turned out to be,” Itachi retorts thinly.

A humorless cough of a laugh bubbles up from Shisui’s chest; of all the ways he pictured his last days he never could have imagined they would look like this, standing around sweaty and filthy while getting literally and figuratively roasted within an inch of his life. “Look, I get it, alright? I’m a fucking failure in your eyes. Always have been, always will be.”

Itachi’s frown somehow manages to deepen even further. “‘Failure’ is perhaps too light a word for how I see you.”

Shisui sucks in a harsh breath because _that_\--that actually _ stings_. Far away from the comfort and safety of the ship and seemingly abandoned by all the responsibilities and expectations placed on his shoulders, it’s scarily easy for him to give into his worst impulses, which is why he looks Itachi dead in the eye and says, “Your parents must be real fucking disappointed to put all that effort into bioengineering a kid when all it did was create an uptight, arrogant, selfish, uncaring bastard like you.” 

The words have barely left Shisui’s mouth before two things happen. Thing one is that Shisui feels terribly, horribly guilty and desperately wishes he could take it back. Thing two is that he very quickly has physical pain to match his emotional anguish because, in response, Itachi snarls and punches him right in the face. 

Pain crackles through Shisui’s head and he hits the ground like a sack of potatoes. There’s blood pouring over his lips, and by the shifting, crunching feeling in his nose when he moves to stifle the bleeding chances are good that Itachi has broken it. “You hit me,” he says dumbly, his voice muffled beneath his palm. 

“It appears I did,” Itachi replies, looking just as shocked as Shisui. He flexes his tense fingers, the skin darkening where it collided with Shisui’s goddamn _ face_, and attempts to suppress a shudder. 

“That’s…” Blood trickles off his chin and hits the sand like soft rainfall, leaving him feeling strangely wonderstruck. “Did it make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Itachi says, “but also no.” 

Of course it doesn’t, not when the cards they’ve been dealt are such absolute shit. The reality of their predicament floods through Shisui, visions of their demise painfully clear. After nearly two weeks of being lost in the wilderness with no sign of the Corvus their chances of rescue are slim to none. It’s a toss up of what will kill them first, dehydration or exposure, but Shisui remembers enough of his survival training classes as a cadet to know neither death is a pleasant one. And if there is an afterlife he’s sure to get stuck with Itachi, who will no doubt spend the rest of eternity following Shisui around simply to remind him that he told him so. All in all, they are currently living in the absolute worst case scenario. 

Faced with the grimness of it all, Shisui can only do one thing: he laughs. The sound is high and brittle, definitely on the side of hysterical. Tears are building in his eyes and he wipes them away, smearing blood across his face and blurring the image of Itachi staring at him with a mix of anger and concern. 

“Captain…” Itachi begins hesitantly, which would make for excellent future blackmail material if Shisui thought they actually _ had _ futures ahead of them.

“I think I’m losing my mind out here,” he gasps, resting a hand on his aching abdomen, the muscles there tensely coiled from his laughter. 

“To be frank, I do not believe there was much to lose in the first place,” Itachi replies, bringing on another set of giggles from his Captain. 

“You… are such an asshole,” Shisui wheezes. He pushes his dirty hair out of his face with an equally dirty hand and risks a glance at Itachi, nearly choking on his own spit as he does. To his absolute shock Itachi is _ also _ laughing, admittedly in a much more restrained fashion than Shisui himself. It’s just a chuckle, the slightest bit of amusement in his face, but it’s enough to send Shisui flopping back into the sand again, cackling as he goes. “Oh, we’re so going to die,” he coughs.

“I suspect you are correct,” Itachi replies airily, barely containing a grin. 

For just a moment there’s the oddest peace between them. Granted they’re still fucking doomed, but hey. At this point Shisui will take whatever he can get. 

  
  


*

If they were in a movie, Shisui thinks, that’d be the end of it. They’d share a beautiful moment, a clear understanding passing between them, and suddenly over a decade’s worth of resentment and distaste would vanish in a puff of smoke. But they’re not in a romantic comedy or a buddy cop film, and it’s not long before their shared laughter passes as quickly as it arrives, returning them to the awkward tension that’s been simmering for months. 

Because he is a fundamentally better man than Shisui in nearly every way, Itachi recovers himself almost immediately and gets to work trying to fix the mess he made of Shisui’s nose. For his part, Shisui sits as still and quiet as possible, like a scolded child trying to avoid causing even more trouble. Miraculously there’s the tiniest of first aid kits in the shoulder bag of rations the Coridanites supplied them with, so Itachi’s at least able to clean some of the now-dried blood away. There’s no sense in doing much else, given that the injury has already clotted and there’s currently no way to reverse the damage to the nose itself. But Itachi still moves delicately and diligently, clearly careful not to make things any worse, and Shisui’s grateful for the dedication even if he’s not entirely sure he deserves it. 

Eventually Itachi sighs heavily and announces, “It is finished.”

“Thank you,” Shisui replies earnestly. 

Itachi nods. “You are welcome,” he replies as he rearranges the contents of the kit. “I am sorry I couldn’t do more.” 

“Don’t be; in the grand scheme of things this is hardly our biggest problem.” Raising a hand to the body part in question, Shisui winces; while it’s certainly not the most severe injury he’s received in the line of duty, it’s no picnic, either. “I’m sorry, too,” he says, after a pause. “For what I said about your parents, I mean. It was a low blow.”

“That it was,” Itachi agrees, though less unkindly than Shisui would have expected, before adding, “though not entirely undeserved, considering the circumstances.” _ That _ takes Shisui by surprise; never in a million years did he expect the high and mighty Itachi would ever admit fault for anything. Of course, the shock dims a few seconds later when Itachi says, “I suppose I should apologize for breaking your nose, but truth be told I do not feel all that badly about it.”

Shisui chuckles softly. “Can’t say I blame you,” he replies. An uneasy silence settles after that, the way the breeze gentle ruffles through the sand the only sound surrounding them. For the time being, Shisui’s content to leave it be, too preoccupied by his own thoughts. The punch, for all that it was not a fun and sexy experience, felt like a wake-up call, as if Itachi hitting him somehow knocked his brain back into place and allowed for some much-needed clarity about their situation. 

Looking back on their entire relationship up to this point, Shisui has to admit Itachi isn’t entirely wrong about him. Sure, Itachi perhaps could have found a more polite way of expressing his feelings, but that doesn’t make said feelings invalid. At the end of the day, Shisui is his Captain, meaning it's his responsibility to get his shit together and fix whatever issue is between the two of them. And rather than ever confronting the problem directly, Shisui has consistently taken the path of minorly altering his behavior and pitching a fit when such a tactic doesn’t work. It was a stupid plan, considering subtlety was never going to get the job done when he’s dealing with a freaking _ Vulcan_. Of all the things Shisui has done in an attempt to win Itachi’s favor, the one choice he’s never made is the exact choice that would be most likely to lead him to success: he has never simply _ talked _ to Itachi. 

The realization hits Shisui like a brick to the head, and he can’t help feeling like the biggest idiot in the galaxy. He’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry, but makes a conscious decision to do neither as he’s not sure his body can handle another fit of unrestrained lunacy. 

Instead, he clears his throat and says, “So, since we’re, like, three days away from dropping dead I’m going to bite the bullet and finally ask you something I’ve wondered about for the last decade.” Itachi says nothing in response, which Shisui takes as an act of permission. Licking his lips, he lowers his eyes and asks, “Why do you hate me so much?” 

The question is clearly not one Itachi is expecting, and from the corner of his vision Shisui sees him freeze. “I thought we did not need to braid one another’s hair,” he says slowly, which Shisui would find funny if the rest of their situation wasn’t so unbelievably dreadful.

“No, we don’t. But we _ do _ need to be able to get through this mission without you punching me again--provided we manage to escape from this shitstain, of course.” 

“I…” Itachi pauses, mouth taut. It’s a rare occasion to see the man at a loss for words, though admittedly Shisui _ is _ usually the cause for such an event. Typically he takes pride in flummoxing Itachi, but right now he’s too tired to gloat. “It is complicated,” he finishes finally. 

“Considering I’ve got all the time in the world right now why don’t you go ahead and uncomplicate it for me.” 

He’s half expecting Itachi to take a swing at him again, but is pleasantly surprised when the Vulcan instead says, “We are very different, which is why you do not understand what it is like to see the world as an outsider, as I have always seen it. For as long as we have been acquainted, I have seen how people have treated you, as if your very presence was some sort of gift to sentient beings everywhere. That is why you will never know what it’s like to be as I am, someone forced to grovel for scraps of acceptance.” 

Shisui raises his eyebrows, bewildered by the revelation. “Itachi, that’s crazy,” he counters. “You were number one in our class and all our professors loved you. Hell, you could have done anything you wanted in Starfleet with how talented you are, and nobody gets that luxury unless they’ve got good clout.” 

“Perhaps, but there is a difference between being useful and being welcomed,” Itachi argues. “The status I have achieved in life can be traced back to my implicit value as the child of Ambassador Fugaku of Vulcan and my combined intellect and skill in my chosen field. That does not mean I have often been regarded as a person by those outside of my immediate family. To the people of Earth I am a cold and bizarre oddity; to the people of Vulcan I am a waste of perfectly good genetics and a betrayal to all my culture holds dear. Every moment I have been reminded of the fact that there is no place in the universe where my existence is approved of.”

“That’s…” Shisui frowns, unable to find the right words to say. 

“So you can understand, then, why it has been so unpleasant for me to spend the last eleven years as the object of your mocking.” 

“Wait, _ mocking_?” he asks, brow furrowing. “When have I ever mocked you?”

Itachi stares at him, gaze cold. “You cannot be asking me that question in good faith,” he answers, disbelieving. “What else would you call the countless taunting remarks and contemptuous leering you have directed my way? All you have ever done is make snide comments you know for a fact I cannot contextualize, viewing me as if I am a fool because I am different from you.” At that, Itachi drops his gaze, looking oddly vulnerable, and adds, “When you approached me on Vulcan, I had hoped that the years would have changed you, that your career in Starfleet would have forced you to mature. But if anything it would appear that the last decade has only made you more cruel.” 

Shisui is speechless. The memories he’s carried for years begin to shift perspective, twisting in his mind’s eye, and suddenly he sees the world through Itachi’s eyes. A boy of two worlds yet belonging to neither, surrounded by people and customs he studies but never fully understands. A crowd of hormonal teenagers, spurred on by isolation and privilege, searching the herd for weak links and easy targets. And in the center of it all Shisui himself, always joking, always laughing, seeming to take nothing seriously while never thinking about the consequences of his actions, a black cloud that Itachi could never fully escape, even all these years later. “_Oh,_” he murmurs, suddenly feeling extremely queasy. 

“Yes,” Itachi says tonelessly, though there’s a twist to his stony features. “_Oh_.” 

“Itachi, I didn’t think--”

“That is the problem entirely: you never do.” 

With a flinch, Shisui concedes, “Guess I deserve that.” 

“I did not tell you such things to make you feel sorry for me,” Itachi pronounces, his protective shell hardening once more. “I do not need your pity.”

“Hey, no, that’s not--” Shisui exhales sharply, running a jerky hand through his tangled hair. “It’s not that I pity you, okay? It’s that I feel like a huge fucking asshole for making you feel so shitty when it was the exact opposite of my intentions.” 

“What, precisely, _ were _ your intentions?”

“Definitely not to mock you,” Shisui replies. “Sometimes humans--okay, it’s weird to explain, but we just… pick on each other, but not in a mean way, you know?” Itachi does not, in fact, _ know_, which is how this mess started in the first place, so he elaborates, “With people like me it’s just how you show someone you like them.”

The look Itachi gives him could burn through every scrap of paper and shard of glass on this planet. “You made me feel like an imbecile out of some misbegotten attempt at friendship,” he states, dragging the words out like talking to Shisui is as agonizing as figuring out his taxes. (Then again, knowing Itachi like he does Shisui wouldn’t be surprised if the man actually _ enjoyed _ doing taxes.)

Shisui blinks; well, when the guy puts it like _ that _… “Uh, kinda, yeah.” 

“You are…” Itachi trails off, at a loss for words before shaking his head. “I will never understand humans,” he mutters.

“That’s very fair; we aren’t exactly the most understandable species.” Shisui feels almost dizzy from his epiphany; while it certainly explains the animosity they’d had for one another quite clearly, there _ is _ one thing he has to know: “You really thought I offered you a position on my ship so I could bully you for half a decade?” 

“To be honest, I have never known what to think of you,” Itachi confesses, eyes firmly focused on an ancient newspaper lying a few feet away from them. 

It’s strange to look at Itachi, someone he’s known for so long, and realize he hasn’t actually known him at all. Shisui feels like he’s seeing who Itachi actually is for the very first time, and can’t help but feel humbled by the experience. “For the record, I didn’t, so now you know that much at least,” he clarifies, then adds, “Jeez, I already thought you were good at your job, but in hindsight you’re a freaking miracle-worker if you were able to be so efficient under those circumstances. So, thanks for that, I guess.” 

Itachi’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Fortunately efficiency has always been a talent of mine.” 

“Alright, no need to show off,” Shisui mutters, and this time Itachi does smile. It’s a small gesture, almost secretive, but the sight does stupid, annoying things to Shisui’s heartbeat nonetheless. Maybe it’s better if he dies on this wasteland after all--better to meet his nonexistent maker than deal with whatever the fallout of all this impassioned bonding will be. 

“I am sorry, by the way,” he tells Itachi once more, softer than before, and Itachi turns to look at him directly. His expression is thoughtful, as if he’s analyzing the truthfulness of Shisui’s words, and he fidgets under the attention in return. 

Whatever Itachi sees must be damn convincing because after a long moment he replies, “I accept your apology.” 

Eventually Shisui stands, dusting off his knees simply so he’ll have something to do with his hands--another moment of motionless emotional intimacy and he’s bound to break out in hives. “Well, that was a good talk,” he declares. “Maybe you should punch me in the face more often.”

“Do not tempt me, Captain,” Itachi threatens, and Shisui grins so wide it hurts--a lot. 

*

Because their luck is the absolute worst in the galaxy, Shisui is absolutely unsurprised by the realization that they’re being hunted.

Statistically speaking, given the state of this planet it was only a matter of time before they would encounter another lifeform. Personally, Shisui was hoping it might be some type of space critter they could catch for sustenance (or _ he _ could, at least; he has no doubt Itachi will stay on his vegetarian Vulcan bullshit until his dying day) but nope. Instead, it’s more space pirates, because they didn’t have enough fun with the space pirates the _ first _ time around. Time is a flat circle, or what the fuck ever. 

They run into trouble roughly two days after their little therapy session. The group is far enough in the distance that he and Itachi are safe for the moment, but sooner or later that won’t be the case. That in mind, Shisui decides to play a card that will either get them off this godforsaken hell world or cause them to be skinned alive and turned into Orion loafers. At this point, he’s more than ready to take the risk, but getting Itachi on board will no doubt prove to be an endeavor. 

“Well, as far as I see it we have two options,” he starts as they lay flat in the sand, attempting to camouflage their position. “Option one is that we keep trekking through the desert trying to stay one step ahead of them until we inevitably drop dead.”

“An undesirable fate,” Itachi replies grimly.

“My thoughts exactly.” Not that, Shisui suspects, Itachi is going to like option two anymore, but hey. Rather than leading with that, however, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

A thin line of confusion forms between Itachi’s slim brows. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes or no, Itachi?”

After a long moment Itachi answers, “Yes,” which is both very surprising and oddly touching considering their turbulent relationship thus far. 

“Great.” Shisui grins and grabs Itachi’s bony wrist, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go get captured.” 

Itachi tenses in his grip and moves to pull away, but Shisui raises both their arms and waves them above their heads as wildly as he’s physically capable. “Hey! Over here!” Between all the screaming he and Itachi have done and the lack of water his throat is raspy as hell, but his voice manages to be loud enough to do the trick. A pack of green faces turn to look in their direction, and the visitors immediately begin making their way over to the pair of downtrodden Starfleet soldiers. “We surrender!”

“I would like to rescind my faith in you, Captain,” Itachi remarks, eyes wide as a startled baby animal. 

“Don’t give up on me yet, First Officer,” Shisui says brightly. “This is the best shot we’ve got of getting out of here. If this works we’ll be back on the Corvus in no time.”

“And if it does not?”

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” 

Shisui’s brilliant plan definitely seems a lot less brilliant when one of the Orion smugglers rams his blaster into Shisui’s already wrecked nose and another tackles Itachi to the ground and holds a literal _ axe _ of all things to his neck. For a person seconds away from being beheaded Itachi looks shockingly composed, which Shisui, in between bouts of agonizing facial pain, can appreciate. It helps him maintain some semblance of confidence about how to get them the hell out of this situation. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Shisui says, nodding at Itachi’s captor, and holds back a curse; apparently his Orion is a lot rustier than he thought. Fortunately his butchered attempt at the alien language does its job, and the Orion with his boot on Shisui’s back grabs him by the hair to haul him on his knees. 

“And why’s that?” The Orion asks in a gravelly tone of voice. 

“Uh, maybe because we’re worth more if you take us alive?” Shisui laughs. “You really don’t know who that is?” He nods towards Itachi and explains, “You’ve got Ambassador Fugaku of Vulcan’s pride and joy at gunpoint--eh, axepoint, rather; he’d give you a hell of a lot to bring his son back home.” 

Mercifully, that gets exactly the response Shisui was hoping for, and he breathes a much-needed sigh of relief as the Orion in front of him--apparently the leader of the operation--orders the weapon to be lifted from the curve of Itachi’s throat. “What about you?” the man questions. 

“Oh, me? Just a humble Starfleet captain. You know, an incredibly expensive and well-insured asset they’d do just about anything to recover,” Shisui answers, earning another round of Meaningful Eye Contact from the outlaws. It’s promising, but Shisui knows he really needs to stick the landing to ensure their safety. “As far as I can tell, this will work out for all of us: you get a fat paycheck and we don’t get slaughtered like cattle. What do you say?” 

Nobody actually _ says _ anything, but considering he and Itachi are both handcuffed and dragged to their feet to be marched across the desert, he’s pretty sure they’re all on the same page.

Wisely, Itachi says nothing, choosing instead to walk in silence beside Shisui as they’re led back to the Orion ship, which is what Shisui had been gambling on this whole time. The next step--in actuality a series of many steps--is to try and find a way to overpower their new overlords, seize the ship, contact the Corvus, rendezvous with the crew, and pray that they never have the misfortune of experiencing the Borderland ever again. 

Of course, each and every one of those steps suddenly becomes totally meaningless when Shisui catches a glimpse of something shiny in the atmosphere rapidly approaching them. In seconds the Corvus’ disk becomes clearly visible, and Shisui has never loved his ship more. 

“This is the USS Corvus,” Anko’s voice suddenly projects through the pale blue sky; somehow, even now, she manages to sound bored. Shisui would be annoyed by her lack of concern if he wasn’t so fucking grateful to hear her at all. “Acting on direct orders from Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, we demand that you release our Captain, Shisui Uchiha, and First Officer, Itachi of Vulcan. Failure to follow these orders will leave us no choice but to nuke you guys into oblivion. Will you comply?” 

Mercifully, they do, but one of the crooks manages to get one last whack in before the Corvus lands, kicking Shisui in the leg so hard he’s surprised he manages to stay up right. When the tables turn and it’s time to round up the Orions, he chooses not to return the favor, but whether or not he intentionally fixes the cuffs a bit too tight for comfort remains a mystery. 

(Hint: it’s not and he does.)

  
  


*

Once they’re back on the Corvus, as far as Shisui’s concerned the first order of business is taking the longest shower in the history of mankind; right now it would be an act of monstrosity to subject his crewmates to his current state. It takes roughly an hour and a half of dousing himself in cold water for Shisui to feel like a human being again, even if the bone-deep exhaustion of barely sleeping for nearly two weeks and the heinous sunburn covering most of his upper torso remains. That in mind, he drags his sorry self down to the Med Bay, summoning Anko and Itachi to join him.

Sakura’s halfway through restoring Itachi and himself to good health when Anko finally makes an appearance. “You two,” she announces, “look like absolute shit.”

“Thank you for that very thoughtful summation, Chief Mitarashi,” Itachi replies, somehow managing to be haughty under a thick layer of gauze and medical tape. “Truly, it was very necessary.” 

“What he said,” Shisui chimes in. “Did you seriously just come here to pull on our pigtails?” 

“Actually, I came to tell you that after careful investigation we’ve discovered Coridanite separatists blackmailed their way into the government and that’s the reason you got stuck on a dumpster planet for two weeks,” Anko retorts. “As far as I’m concerned, pulling on your pigtails is just an added bonus.”

“Oh, well if it was just Coridanite separatists,” he says sarcastically. “So, what? Merging with the Federation had their unmentionables in that much of a twist?” 

“Pretty much. After you and His Royal Greenness got zapped into oblivion Ino and I hightailed it back to the Corvus--”

“What a stunning display of loyalty,” Itachi cuts in, and if looks could kill he would definitely be dead and buried, slain by Anko and her trademark scowl.

“Hey, ease up, will you?” Shisui counters. “She got the job done, didn’t she?” 

Shockingly, the words have their intended effect, and some of the resentment bleeds out of Itachi’s rigid frame. It’s a detail that does not go unnoticed considering the very inquisitive look Anko directs at Shisui. He flaps a hand, unwilling to give her a play-by-play of exactly why Itachi doesn’t _ exactly _ despise him anymore, and says, “Moving on: you booked it back to the ship--then what?”

“Well, then Kisame got his wish because I unleashed him on the Chancellor until he finally caved and told us what the hell happened to you two.”

Shisui closes his eyes as the horror of that sentence sinks in. “Anko,” he begins carefully, “tell me you didn’t torture the Coridanite Chancellor.”

Anko clicks her tongue, annoyed. “Obviously not. Jesus, how little faith do you have in me?”

“You really want me to answer?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes. 

“For your information I happened to have a very civil and pleasant conversation with the Chancellor; it’s just that his lips were a bit looser when there was a giant, blood-thirsty sharkman looming over him.”

“I don’t know if that’s better,” Sakura says thoughtfully as she slathers extra-strength reparative lotion on the fried skin of Shisui’s neck. It’s uncomfortably icy at first, but quickly does the trick and removes the ache from the burnt tissue as it slowly yet surely heals. It’s a feeling Shisui is grateful for, even if it means he’s soon going to miss the charmingly undignified patches of dark green plastered across Itachi’s cheeks. 

Anko continues, undaunted, “In any case, it worked; eventually he coughed up your whereabouts and we swooped in to save your pathetic selves.”

“And what of Coridan?” Itachi asks. 

“So far all we know is that the Federation is working with the Coridanites to set up an emergency election. Given that there are lingering anti-Federation sentiment, they’re understandably trying to walk softly with this one--meaning that at the end of the day this whole excursion was a huge waste of our time,” Anko finishes, inspecting the chipping black paint on her nails. “Anyway, enough of that nonsense. I want to know what you two crazy kids did on your vacation.” 

Itachi glances at Shisui, who shrugs in return--and then realizes pretty quickly that such an action is a huge fucking mistake just a second too late. Wincing at the damage done to the tender tissue of his shoulders, he replies, “Oh, not much. Hung out, fought off starvation and dehydration, nearly got snatched by Orion smugglers. You know, the usual.”

“Fascinating,” she says, unimpressed. “Well, if that’s all you’re gonna cough up you’ll have to excuse me because I have a Security Officer to console; Kisame’s pretty broken up about the lack of bloodshed.” Despite herself, Anko’s brown eyes soften and she favors Shisui with an uncharacteristically affectionate smile. “Try not to pull dumb shit like that again,” she murmurs as she slips out the Med Bay’s door, not even bothering to wait for an official dismal. 

“Never a dull moment with that one, eh?” Sakura asks, shaking her head as she reaches for yet another one of her tools. “Alright, I saved the worst for last. Get ready, it’s time to work on that nose.” 

Though he’s in no way fond of the feeling of having his face smashed to pieces, the idea of Sakura waving a magic wand and immediately fixing the damage fills his stomach with an odd dread. It’s not like Shisui’s looking forward to weeks and weeks of his healing, but he’s not in love with the idea of taking the easy way out on an injury he very much deserved, either. “Yeah, about that…” He says, clearing his throat. “Maybe we can just, I dunno--leave it?”

Sakura stares at him, disbelief written across her face. “You want me to just… leave you with a broken nose…?” she questions.

“Sure,” Shisui retorts. “I mean, it’s going to heal anyway, right? Might as well save that juice for when we have bigger fish to fry. Besides, it might even add some character if it heals funky.” 

“If you say so,” Sakura agrees reluctantly, though not before shooting both himself and Itachi a very confused look. “Since you’re fine and dandy with being wounded for no good reason, you two are free to go. I’ll expect to see you back here first thing tomorrow to check on those burns and make sure they’re clearing up normally.” 

“Thank you as always for your hard work, doc,” Shisui says, flashing her a bright grin before following Anko’s lead and exiting the sick room, a puzzled Itachi following close behind. 

It’s evening by their standards at this point, meaning there’s no point in diving into work unless it’s absolutely necessary. With the exception of his daily captain’s log Shisui is more than ready to all but ignore the Corvus for the next twelve hours unless the damn thing gets hijacked or catches on fire. 

Itachi’s silent at his side as they make the journey back to their respective quarters. Though he says nothing out loud, his contemplative expression speaks volumes, as does the fact he doesn't continue walking once they reach Shisui’s room. They stand still for a few seconds, still not speaking though Itachi clearly wants to say something, until finally Shisui bites the bullet and asks, “What’s on your mind?” 

The Vulcan’s dark eyes dart away, focused on Shisui’s feet; it’s becoming a familiar pattern, the way Itachi can never truly face him when he wants to say something vulnerable. “I am fairly certain,” he begins quietly, “that harming one’s Captain is an offense to be met with severe punishment.” 

_ Of course that’s what he’s worried about_, Shisui thinks, something warm and sweet spreading in his chest. Humming thoughtfully, he responds, “Huh, guess it is. Good thing that didn’t happen, isn’t it, First Officer?” 

The words make Itachi snap his head up and he stares at Shisui, uncomprehending. Unbidden, the memory of the night after their disastrous meeting on Andoria comes to Shisui’s mind. It was the first time Itachi had looked at him differently, almost as if he was suddenly seeing Shisui in an entirely different light. That same expression is on his face now, one of mixed caution and wonder that’s still so painfully reserved, and yet again Shisui hopes this means that maybe Itachi will stop hating him.

“Yes,” Itachi says after a long moment. “I suppose it is.” 

Ignoring the sudden tightness in his chest, Shisui sighs and adds, “Look, as much as I’m enjoying standing here talking in riddles, we should get some rest. I’m beat and also you look like you have been hit by five or more motor vehicles.”

Raising an eyebrow, Itachi replies, “I believe the human proverb ‘those who live in glass houses should not throw stones’ applies in this situation.” 

“Oh, so you’re funny now?” Shisui retorts dryly, to which Itachi responds by looking entirely too pleased with himself; another thing he tries hard not to think about. “Well, on the bright side we managed to survive on scraps while trapped in the middle of nowhere and somehow we didn’t end up killing each other in the process. Maybe we make a pretty good team after all.” 

Itachi watches him thoughtfully before an uncharacteristically warm smile graces his features. “Perhaps we do, Captain,” he says, and Shisui, struck silent and stupid by the sight, barely even notices Itachi excusing himself and walking away. 

After a moment, he grins and mutters to himself, “Just when you think you’ve seen everything.” 

It’s one small step for mankind, sure, but Shisui likes to think it’s one big step for Itachis everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I SURE MEANT TO HAVE THIS CHAPTER DONE EARLIER AND A LOT SURE HAS CHANGED SINCE I STARTED IT
> 
> i took A Lot of liberties with certain aspects of star trek canon in this chapter and fucked around with the timelines and the events that led up to coridan entering the federation (also i could find no descriptions or screencaps of what the planet really looks like???) and probably mischaracterized the borderland immensely but i had a lot of fun when i wasn't on the verge of ripping my own hair out so idc.
> 
> i have to give a very big shout-out to my best friend aja, who has been dutifully helping me edit this monster and to whom i dedicate the space alligator because they really wanted an annihilation reference to be included. as always comments and kudos are appreciated, and please take a look at some of the amazing fanart my (now) fiancee has created for this fic along with some ~author commentary~ [here](https://astoldbygingersnaps.tumblr.com/tagged/star-trek-au). you can also feel free to follow me on tumblr via the link.
> 
> thanks for all the support and i'll see you next time! stay safe and healthy everyone!


	5. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snorting, Shikamaru asks, “Where to this time?”
> 
> “For your information, we’re en-route to the tropical shores of Risa as we speak.”
> 
> That gets the engineer's attention. “Wait, the sex planet?”
> 
> “It is not a sex planet,” Shisui says emphatically, though after Itachi makes very pointed eye contact with him he amends, “Alright, it’s kind of a sex planet, but that’s not why we’re going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warnings for mentions of and non-detailed descriptions of both cancer and alcoholism.

**stardate 2266.275**

Since stepping aboard the USS Corvus, Itachi has attempted to contact his younger brother approximately six hundred and eighty-four times through a variety of mediums. An objective observer could perhaps say that the number is a bit… excessive, but it’s not as if Itachi’s concerns are without merit. To Vulcan society, Sasuke, the baby of his family’s dynasty, is known for exactly two things: causing unnecessary drama and clinging to his elder brother like a barnacle to a rock. 

That in mind, Sasuke had taken the news of Itachi’s departure rather--_ poorly_, to put it lightly. The argument that ensued when Itachi announced his intention to leave their homeworld was the ugliest that had ever occurred between the two; months later Itachi is still processing how it felt to be on the receiving end of his brother’s wrath after a lifetime of remaining sheltered from it. In the end Sasuke very clearly and even more loudly declared that he no longer wanted anything to do with Itachi which he, used to observing his brother’s melodramatics, shrugged off as another heated yet ultimately idle threat. But despite the odds Sasuke stayed true to his word and had yet to answer any of the many messages Itachi sent his way, leaving Itachi feeling empty and adrift at the rejection. 

While Sasuke had turned his back on Itachi, their parents have decided not to partake in his vow of silence. Fugaku makes regular contact with his eldest son, usually for Starfleet-related purposes but occasionally simply to inquire about Itachi’s overall health and well-being. On the other end of the spectrum, Mikoto has been absolutely nosy about the whole affair and demands regular updates, which Itachi fondly obliges. It’s no secret that his mother’s heart belongs to the stars--she _ is _ an astrophysicist married to Vulcan royalty, after all--and has always encouraged Itachi to explore the galaxy from the moment he expressed an interest in worlds outside his own. If not for his mother lovingly yet demandingly pushing him out of Vulcan’s atmosphere Itachi is almost certain he never would have applied for Starfleet Academy in the first place, let alone set sail with Corvus.

In addition to his regular reports to the Captain, Itachi sends equally-detailed documentation to his mother about his ship’s travels and the relationships amongst his crew (personally Itachi finds gossip unseemly, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to perform if it makes Mikoto happy). Along with his writings, Itachi makes an effort to call her whenever he’s free which, as of late, has been an unusual occurrence. After a slow start the Corvus’ journey is quickly picking up steam, keeping Itachi and the crew exceptionally occupied.

Itachi has just submitted his paperwork regarding their latest exploration, a two week mission stationed on Bajor, when his mother’s face appears on his PADD. A weightless relief sweeps through Itachi’s veins at the sight and he accepts her call with a pleased expression. “Mother,” he greets her.

Mikoto narrows her eyes in response. “I don’t know,” she murmurs, slow and thoughtful. “You _ look _ like my son, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen him I’m afraid I can’t tell anymore.” 

“Hilarious,” Itachi replies, lips twitching in amusement as he studies her features. For better or worse, not much has changed since they last spoke; the circles under her eyes remain prominent and the hollows of her cheeks are highlighted in the shadowy light of her study in the Vulcan palace. If nothing else Itachi is thankful that her weight seems to have stayed steady and the rasp in her breathing hasn’t worsened. After all this time Itachi is content to accept small mercies. “Do I find you well?”

Mikoto rolls her eyes, affectionate and good-natured. “I’m _ fine_,” she insists. “As I’ve told you before and will tell you again, your new job has not doomed me to death, so stop fussing.” 

“For your information, I have never fussed once in my life.” 

“We’ll agree to disagree, then,” she says with a smirk before a familiar mischief appears on her face. “So, tell me everything! How was Bajor? Did you discover any new species? Are you finally getting along with that Captain of yours?”

“Fine, unfortunately not, and although we have been in agreement as of late he is most definitely not _ my _ Captain,” Itachi answers irritably, which only serves to broaden his mother’s smile. At twenty-seven years of age he’s very much aware that such a pithy response will not be enough to satisfy Mikoto’s curiosity, so with a sigh Itachi launches into a detailed summary of the entire Bajoran assignment, a synopsis that takes roughly half an hour to provide. 

By the time Itachi’s finished speaking Mikoto is wonderstruck, a happiness that he is more than glad to provide; he more than anyone knows how much his mother’s world has narrowed in the last few years, meaning he also knows what the tales of his adventures mean to her. “And you?” he prompts. “How has Vulcan fared recently?” 

“Ah, you know how it is here,” Mikoto says. “Not much changes on this planet. Your father is as consumed by his work as ever, though he’s been making an effort to work remotely as much as possible.”

Cautiously, he asks, “How is Sasuke?”

Mikoto sighs, lowering her gaze. “I take it he still won’t speak to you?”

Itachi clears his suddenly tight throat. “No,” he answers quietly. “There has been nothing.” 

His mother’s expression softens. “He’ll come around,” she says. “Just give him time.”

“So you have told me before,” he replies, looking away. “And so you will tell me again.”

“Itachi,” she says, pleading, but he shakes his head in response.

“Forgive me, Mother, but I must go; the Captain has requested my presence.” 

Mikoto gives him a small smile. “All work and no play,” she chides. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” 

“We will speak soon,” Itachi promises before disconnecting, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and the oppressive silence of space. 

*****

“Another mission already?” Shikamaru whines over the cacophony of the Engine Room, later that day. “You can’t be serious; we literally just pulled off Bajor’s surface.” 

“Them’s the breaks, kiddo,” Shisui replies, undaunted, as he balances precariously on a piece of machinery he most likely should not be sitting upon. Itachi watches him warily while maintaining an exceptionally careful distance should the Captain take the great fall Itachi suspects is inevitable.“Don’t like it, don’t work for Starfleet.” 

Wisely, Shikamaru keeps the rest of his no-doubt negative opinions to himself. “Whatever you say, sir.” Unquestioning praise is music to Shisui’s ears and predictably he preens at the words. Snorting, Shikamaru asks, “Where to this time?”

“For your information, we’re en-route to the tropical shores of Risa as we speak.”

That gets the engineer’s attention. “Wait, the sex planet?”

“It is _ not _ a sex planet,” Shisui says emphatically, though after Itachi makes very pointed eye contact with him he amends, “Alright, it’s kind of a sex planet, but that’s not why we’re going.” 

Itachi leans closer to Shikamaru to avoid the errant sparks coming from the repairs being performed on the warp core behind him and explains, “Recently there have been reports of unusual phenomenon on Risa that has caused the death of a handful of native foliage, though local scientists have yet to locate a reason for such an occurrence. Given that their economy is heavily reliant on its status as a tourist destination, the planet will no doubt fall into chaos and ruin if the cause for this change in the local ecosystem is not quickly determined.” 

The metal of the core gives a sudden piercing shriek, causing Itachi and Shisui to exchange equally concerned glances with one another. But Shikamaru appears as calm and unimpressed as always, so Itachi continues, “We have been instructed by Starfleet to collect samples of the affected trees and analyze them for signs of disease or infestation. In addition, we are to inspect the life support and irrigation systems to ensure both were installed correctly during terraforming, which is where we will be asking for your assistance.” 

“How dull,” Shikamaru says around a yawn. “Whatever, just fetch me whenever you need me.” Seemingly finished with both of them, Shikamaru jumps onto the warp core’s outer shell, climbing the piping with the nimble grace of a small monkey to meet up with one of his fellow engineers. Itachi watches him go, fascinated, before turning to face Shisui again, who is currently shaking his head in disgust.

“What a brat,” the Captain says as they walk out of the Engine Room. He looks at Itachi, imploring and indignant, and asks, “Seriously, can you believe that brat?”

“Should you be judging the quality of anyone’s conduct?” Itachi retorts. A small crowd of Ensigns pass by them and he nods respectfully as they disappear around the corner into the Recreation Wing.

Shisui raises an eyebrow, mouth curled. “You know, I think I liked you better before you acquired a sense of humor; these days you’re just a little too smug for my taste.” 

“Why, Captain, I have no idea what you are talking about.” Even after months of successful cooperation and collaboration it’s still a surreal experience to speak with Shisui like this, as if they’re two people engaging in friendly camaraderie rather than two entirely different individuals who have spent much of their life aggressively at odds with one another. 

Truth be told, Itachi isn’t sure what to make of their association; it feels far too casual to merely be a relationship between leader and subordinate, but ‘casual’ is also the most accurate way to describe Shisui’s entire thesis of command. Though said approach still occasionally rankles Itachi’s delicate sensibilities, he can admit that so far it’s a good fit for the crew of the Corvus, and has made an effort to adjust his own perceptions accordingly. While Itachi is almost certain he will never fully convert to Shisui’s way of thinking, it has been unexpectedly enjoyable to broaden his horizons. 

One thing that certainly has not changed is the feeling of being out of his depth with Shisui, leaving Itachi to second-guess his every word spoken to and move made around the man. The subtlety of human language remains just out of his grasp, no matter how he’s reached for it, and Itachi is always waiting for the moment where he pushes a boundary he never even knew existed just a touch too far.

But said moment has yet to come, and for now Shisui simply laughs heartily in return. “I dread to see what Risa is going to do to you,” he says. “Actually, you know what, I take it back, we’ll be fine. With all the sun-soaked, laid-back leisure you’re going to absolutely hate it there.”

“From that description I dread what Risa will do to _ you_, then.”

Shisui grins, and the expression eerily mirrors Kisame homicidal glee. “If you think I’m bad, wait until you see Anko,” he vows, and now Itachi is _ truly _ worried. 

The sound of Shisui’s PADD going off draws his attention elsewhere, though the moment he looks at his screen all mirth leaves his face. It’s such a sudden change that Itachi is thrown wildly off balance and he frowns. “Is something the matter, Captain?” he asks.

Shisui doesn’t respond at first, too absorbed by the device in his hand. After a moment he blinks, seemingly coming back to himself, and flashes Itachi an empty smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s fine. Look, I’ve got to take care of something, but I’ll see you tonight for our daily briefing, okay?” Without waiting for a response or even a salute Shisui turns and walks off in the opposite direction, leaving a befuddled Itachi in his wake. 

As always, mysteries abound with Shisui Uchiha. Itachi makes a mental note to investigate the matter at a later time. For now, he has many preparations to make in order to be ready for their latest mission. 

*

Horrifically, Shisui’s prophecy about Anko comes to pass nearly the moment they dock on the beaches of Suraya Bay. They lose her in seconds, as she loudly proclaims she can be found at one of the seaside bars before scampering away in a flourish, deserting her companions for a straw structure staffed by a very scantily-clad red-haired woman. Not for the first time Itachi contemplates why Anko is allowed to get away with so much, but he very quickly remembers that she has the honor of being both Shisui’s closest ally and also the only living person capable of taming the beast that is their Security Department. 

Shisui watches her go with a shake of his head. “Told ya,” he whispers to Itachi, chuckling as they walk along the beach. The day is warm and light, as the days usually are on Risa, and the breeze brushes against their skin pleasantly as they and the main staff vacate the Corvus.

Though Shisui had insisted it was unnecessary to offer them free lodging, the Risian government had insisted on providing every member of the Chief crew with luxury suites as a show of gratitude for the work they would be performing. Though the Captain had reminded everyone that this was a mission like every other and not the relaxed vacation many of the crew were no doubt envisioning, Itachi had more than a few concerns about how effective and successful their team would be in the near future. 

Bumping his shoulder against Itachi’s, Shisui says, “Come to think of it, the last time we saw this much sand it didn’t turn out too hot for us; here’s hoping this isn’t an omen.”

Even though he is well aware of the Captain’s tactile nature at this point, Itachi is still momentarily startled by the contact. He recovers himself quickly enough to respond, “I cannot imagine this assignment will end half as poorly as the Coridan excursion.”

Shisui wags a finger at him and gravely replies, “Don’t tempt fate.”

Itachi has no response, choosing instead to favor the Captain with a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

Before enrolling in Starfleet Academy, Itachi had never actually been to a beach before, as Vulcan was never a planet known for its vast oceans. For the three years he was stationed in San Francisco he spent very little time taking in the sights California had to offer, preferring to spend his time on campus absorbing all the knowledge the Academy was willing to provide. The exception to this rule came when, after his freshman year, his parents and Sasuke traveled from Vulcan to spend a week with him. After months away from all that he held dear, time spent enduring the taunts and torments of his classmates, Itachi was more than happy to take time away from his dormitory and spend his days sight-seeing with his eager mother and brother. Each day he trailed along as they explored museums and thrift shops, but the crown jewel had been the afternoon they all spent at the beach. To this day Itachi recalls it vividly, from the sea salt taste of the air to his mother’s musical laughter as Sasuke pushed Itachi underwater. Thinking upon such memories now, with the current divide in his family structure, causes something cold and sharp to form between Itachi’s ribs, and he takes care to push the feeling away.

Taking in the splendor of the world around them, it’s difficult to imagine the planet Risa once was. Only a century previous Risa had been miserable and nearly inhabitable, a site of constant rain and frequent earthquakes, until a group of clever and intrepid local scientists had found a way to tame the tempestuous weather system. Despite the odds their hard work had paid off and all these years later many across the galaxy were now free to enjoy the fruits of their labor. Now that he’s set foot on Risa Itachi can see why the world has become such a popular vacation destination; between the stunning views and the mild climate Risa was an ideal place to relax and unwind, to say nothing of the endless high-class restaurants, nightclubs, and spas that provided near-constant entertainment to visitors and natives alike. 

But past all the beauty and glory, however, Itachi can see the heart of the problem: nestled within the forest is a cluster of leafless trees, their trunks withered and dark, sunken into a pool of equally lifeless soil. From the patch springs a series of black lines, spread out like veins as the unknown toxin slowly leeches into the remaining healthy land like a threat. It’s a vision of the fate that awaits all of Risa if they cannot complete the task they have been selected for.

It takes roughly ten minutes to hike through the forest to reach the site of infection. Itachi pulls on a disposable glove before reaching to grasp at one of the affected roots. Even through the latex the bark feels dry and brittle, quickly breaking apart in his hand. Frowning, Itachi rolls the dust between his fingertips. It is not the first time he’s seen unusual diseases in trees, but it is the first time he’s witnessed this type of mutation; chances are good that they will be battling something more than a simple case of root rot.

As expected, the Captain has followed him and crouches beside Itachi, curiously glancing over his shoulder. “Any idea on what might be causing this?” he asks. 

“Though I have a few theories, I wish to remain open to all possibilities,” Itachi answers. “I have arranged to meet with some of the local ecobiologists to analyze their findings. That said, I do intend to lead the Science Department in collecting our own samples to perform a few basic experiments in an attempt to pinpoint the culprit.”

“Meaning you get to roll around in dirt all day while I have to dodge the advances of Madame Wojack,” Shisui concludes enviously. “God, being the Captain sucks.”

“I wish you all the luck in the galaxy with your political matriculation.”

“I’m sure I’ll need it. Did you know she asked Starfleet for me specifically? Ino told me that before we landed, along with the fact that the woman’s a total cougar.” Privately Itachi wonders exactly what the President of Risa and a large North American predator of the felidae family have in common, but he chooses to push that thought aside. 

From the flat beachland below Itachi hears Ino calling for them, and Shisui sighs heavily as he stands. “Speaking of which, regrettably it’s time for me to head over there. Keep me posted on your sandbox adventures?”

Itachi nods. “You will be the first to know once I have found something,” he vows. 

“Knew I could count on you.” With that Shisui offers a quick farewell before making his way back down the dirt path from which he came, nearly smacking into an over-eager Karin and a surly Kabuto on his way down.

“Whoa, this is gnarly,” Karin marvels as she reaches Itachi, her red eyes large as she takes in the sight before her. 

“All the more reason to get to work immediately” Kabuto responds coolly, which is exactly what they do. 

Wary of causing any more damage to the trees’ structure and thus losing valuable evidence, the three begin by recording ample footage and taking numerous photographs of both the healthy and sickly trees for study and comparison. Once Itachi is satisfied with their documentation, they begin by scooping the discolored soil into small vials and placing fallen leaves into plastic evidence bags, both to be analyzed the moment they reach the Corvus’ Science Lab. While Itachi doesn’t doubt the capabilities of the Risian scientists, he is nothing if not a creature of habit and would feel much more comfortable in his own lab, a place that’s become a home away from home in the months since he has left Vulcan. 

It takes roughly an hour of excavation before Itachi is confident they have collected everything they need for the time being. Sending Karin and Kabuto--who are once again squabbling, he notes, displeased--back to the Corvus with samples in hand, Itachi then makes the journey into the center of Suraya Bay to meet with the team in charge of the investigation so far. The scientists are polite and courteous, more than eager to discuss their findings with Itachi and ask for his thoughts in return, and he expects that they will have a successful working relationship in the coming days. At the end of their discussion the group hands him a sealed box filled with both their personal samples and a dossier of their findings thus far which Itachi plans to spend the night reading in the privacy of his lavish yet superfluous hotel room. 

Night has fallen by the time his meeting has finished, meaning the streets are teaming with crowds of party-goers and people more than eager to “show him a good time.” Investigation into Risian culture has shown that many of their more--_mature _ services are geared specifically towards Vulcans, a fact Itachi tries to avoid thinking about more than necessary. The mingled scents of sour beer and stale sweat linger in the air, and Itachi wrinkles his nose as he moves through the throng of bodies, maintaining as much distance as possible for the sake of his own comfort.

Ever since becoming exposed to such debauchery during his time at Starfleet Academy, Itachi has been puzzled by the compulsion that drives so many species to crave such blissful oblivion. It went without saying that the pleasures of drinking were lost on him, giving his physiological inability to be influenced by alcohol. But the other trappings of such activities have never seemed less unseemly to Itachi, who finds it difficult to observe them from even a scientific perspective because of the strange way his body is affected by viewing them. As a youth, his mother had looked at him knowingly when he expressed his struggle to her and promised to discuss the matter at a later time.

Naturally, now that he is both older and more aware of both his biology and of society at large, Itachi has decided to never bring the subject to her attention again in the hopes of saving them both some embarrassment. 

“You look lost,” a familiar voice calls out behind him, and Itachi turns to see Asuma grinning at him, holding a glass of some unnaturally blue concoction in his hand.

“While you look perfectly at home,” Itachi counters as the pilot falls in step with him. 

Asuma shrugs. “I’ve been around these parts once or twice,” he says. “Me and Kurenai took our honeymoon here. Feels a lifetime ago these days.” 

“I take it you are experiencing nostalgia upon returning to Risa?” 

“Something like that,” Asuma says with a chuckle. “C’mon, don’t tell me Vulcans are impervious to getting homesick?” 

“Many citizens of Vulcan will never actually leave our home planet, so statistically speaking it is unlikely for my species to experience such a sensation.” 

“Fine, fine,” he replies genially. “What about you, then? Do you miss it?” 

Itachi thinks of his memory from earlier, of the way the sun caught in Sasuke’s hair and the relaxed curve of his mother’s smile. It feels as if it’s been so long since he spent those moments with them, a lifetime since the world around him was so simple and full of joy. 

Swallowing thickly, he says, “I suppose I do.” 

*

By the time they reach their hotel the rest of the crewmembers are settled into the rooms. Itachi’s own suite is of course located next to the Captain’s, which he’s sure will prove convenient. It’s also blessedly far away from Anko, whose current activities Itachi doesn’t dare to speculate upon. As he enters his quarters, he catches the muffled sound of Shisui’s voice, and the harsh cut of his words has Itachi concerned. Though he knows it’s improper, he leans forward to press his ear to the wall connecting their rooms and listens carefully.

“I’ve already told you,” he hears the Captain say angrily, “I have nothing to say to you, so stop calling me.” 

There’s another person speaking, a male Itachi doesn’t recognize, but Itachi can’t quite make out what he is saying; all he catches is the man’s tone, the pleading flow of it, which Shisui responds to ruthlessly, “Stop, okay? Please, stop.” Shisui sighs harshly, and Itachi can almost picture the hurried way he’s probably running his fingers through his hair, an anxious tick he’s familiar with at this point. “Fuck, I can’t talk about this right now, I’m working. Yes, I’m literally in the middle of a mission right now. No, I’m not going to--just leave me alone, alright?” 

The beep of Shisui’s PADD indicates the call has been disconnected, and Itachi pulls away feeling equal parts guilty and worried. No doubt the call is related to the message Shisui received the day previous, the one that he had tried and failed to casually dismiss. 

Itachi sits on his bed as he attempts to collect his thoughts. By all rights, the matter is none of his business, and it would be both inappropriate and unprofessional to interfere in the Captain’s personal matters. From his careful observations of Shisui’s behavior nothing has drastically changed in the Captain’s demeanor; he remains as pleasant towards the crew and dedicated to his work as ever, meaning there is no reason for Itachi to worry about the man’s performance and insert himself in Shisui’s affairs. Logically, that should be the end of Itachi’s pondering.

Despite this, Itachi remains troubled. Even though his history with Shisui has not always been pleasant, Itachi can admit, at least to himself, that he has reached a point where the Captain’s company is an enjoyable and familiar comfort. Now that they have come to an understanding about the other’s point of view they work exceedingly well together, with Shisui’s out-of-the-box cleverness balanced by Itachi’s analytical facts and figures. Oddly enough, Itachi almost looks forward to their evening meetings, and frequently finds himself seeking the Captain’s advice for some of the more personal aspects of his position. And even before their reconciliation Shisui had always gone out of his way--admittedly in ways that were often tone-deaf and insensitive--to inquire about Itachi’s well-being and attempt to assist him with any difficulties he might be experiencing. That in mind, it seems distasteful not to offer that same service in return.

But given his… limitations, the idea of offering consolation to Shisui feels as attainable to Itachi as surviving a black hole, so instead he chooses to keep to himself and review the files from the Risian scientists. It is probably better this way for both of them, he reasons, but not even his trademark logic can fully erase the uneasy twitch that lingers in his stomach for the rest of the evening. 

*

As soon as daylight breaks, Itachi embarks on the long journey from his hotel to the lot where the Corvus has been stationed. He spent much of the night before awake and analyzing the findings of the Risian scientists, a task easy to perform given his limited need for sleep as a Vulcan, and he’s eager to compare the information in the reports to the exams that Kabuto and Karin have performed. 

Both of the scientists are already in the lab by the time Itachi enters. He is not surprised to see that Sakura is also there, given that she has been working with the local doctors to study the handful of people who have fallen ill because of their proximity to the diseased trees. While normally not a fan of finding surprises in his lab, Itachi almost always welcomes Sakura’s presence; her kind heart and even deposition are an effective balance to Karin’s frenetic enthusiasm and Kabuto’s cold (even by Itachi’s standards) pragmatism. The fact that her skill with healing is matched only by her mentor, the great Starfleet medic Tsunade Senju, also raises her incredibly high in Itachi’s eyes. Both Sakura and Karin greet Itachi as he arrives while Kabuto glances his way but says nothing; this too Itachi has learned to expect, simply another facet of his daily routine accounted for, and he settles in, prepared to continue working. 

By mid-morning Shisui pokes his head in the lab to check on their progress. It’s just Sakura and himself in the lab when the Captain arrives, as Karin is catching up on some much-needed rest after working through the previous evening and Kabuto has stepped out to collect more clean samples to serve as a control. When he enters, Itachi is unnerved to see the evidence of a sleepless night displayed across the Captain’s face, his eyes tight and hooded with exhaustion. “‘Morning, team,” he says, sounding cheerful despite his appearance. “How goes the investigation?” 

“So far we have determined it is a rare yet destructive fungus that is by all accounts not native to this region,” Itachi answers. “We have yet to figure out if it originates on Risa or if it was recently introduced to the planet for the first time. I can prepare a summary of our findings thus far and export them to your PADD for you to review, if you would like.”

“I would, actually. Shikamaru hasn’t reported any flaws in the planet’s infrastructure, so it’ll be good to have something I can take to the Risians to let them know we’re making progress,” Shisui says. “And if it’s an invasive species that’s all the more reason to try and contain it as soon as possible.”

“Precisely my thought process as well, Captain. Rest assured we are doing everything in our power to quickly provide a solution.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Shisui says with a smile. In response, Itachi turns his attention back to his computer screen, pointedly ignoring the unusual heat he feels collecting in the tips of his ears. 

“What about you, Captain?” Sakura asks. “Your meeting with the President seemed awfully… long.”

That changes Shisui’s expression instantly, and he sighs dramatically. “Ugh, don’t even get me started,” he groans. “Ino and I were locked in that woman’s conference room for hours. I swear to God, if I have to listen to another agonizingly boring lecture on economics from one of her advisors I’m going to pass out, to say nothing of the fact she spent the majority of the meeting hitting on me.”

Sakura’s green eyes light up and she grins. “Are you serious?” she asks.

“As the grave,” Shisui replies solemnly, “which, to be frank, I would much rather be in than entering the palace for round two.”

“We’ll pray for you, sir,” she replies.

“Just get us off this planet as soon as possible,” he says before looking at Itachi and adding, “By the way, excellent work as always, First Officer; get that report to me as quick as you can,” before stepping out once more.

Itachi stares at the lab’s entrance, momentarily speechless, before recovering his composure to open a new document and begin typing.

The exchange does not escape Sakura’s notice and she slyly comments, “You two have been getting along well recently.”

“The Captain and I have established an effective working relationship for the sake of our crew and those we are tasked by Starfleet to assist,” Itachi replies stiffly, refusing to meet her eye. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining; it was kind of miserable dancing around you guys all the time. It’s good to see you not hating each other.” For a moment the only sound in the room remains the quiet buzzing of machinery and Itachi’s typing, but then Sakura muses, “Awfully brazen of the President to be so persistent towards the Captain, but I guess I get it. He’s pretty good-looking--you know, if you’re into that whole ‘dating men’ thing,” she adds, wrinkling her nose in distaste. 

Itachi, feeling his patience wear thin, levels Sakura with a flat look and says, “Whatever the Captain does or does not choose to do is his business and his alone. Given that he is a grown adult, he is more than capable of making his own decisions, and as his crew we have no place sticking our noses in his such affairs. That said, I suggest you turn your attention back to your work, Dr. Haruno.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it, jeez,” she mutters. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“For all the years I have lived not once have I ever intended to be fun,” Itachi declares, and Sakura laughs so loud in return Itachi is fairly certain every creature residing on the Corvus can hear the sound.

*

The Risian people, Itachi has quickly learned, value few things in life more than luxury and excess. Even if such a tendency is bewildering to him, he supposes he cannot blame them given that such a mindset has been quite successful for them thus far. A keen eye for beauty and pleasure has brought an immense fortune to the once-unknown planet, a wealth the local officials are more than eager to display on the second evening of their mission. 

Just as the President had insisted on the crew’s lovely yet unnecessary suites, she is equally as insistent on throwing an opulan party to commemorate their arrival. In a matter of hours the palace’s grand ballroom is transformed into an elegant arrangement. Delicate lanterns fill the space with a soft, warm glow, while bouquets of flowers decorate each finely-clothed table. In the corner, to Itachi’s bemusement, there is even a string quartet performing in handsomely tailored suits. All in all, Itachi feels woefully out of place amongst the beautifully dressed elites of Risa, and consequently prefers to keep close to his crew. 

Unlike Itachi, many of the members of the Corvus seem perfectly at home amongst the wining and dining; wrapped in the expensive gowns and tuxedos loaned to them for the evening, it almost seems like they belong here. Truthfully, he’s unsurprised to see the Captain mingling amongst the crowd, as Shisui gives off the impression of a person capable of blending in almost everywhere. Meanwhile, Anko is equally carefree, more than happy to flit around the room sampling various foods and drinks, and Ino is simply happy for an opportunity to dress up and let her hair down. 

By the time the night is halfway over, much of their group has scattered. Shisui has been seized by Wojack and her associates, while Shikamaru (who had somehow managed to sneak Chouji in) has partnered with Karin to secret away as many fancy appetizers as possible before making a suspiciously-timed escape. After that, Asuma politely excuses himself, no doubt on a mission to keep the younger crewmembers in line, and not long after Sakura also disappears, lured away by a local doctor’s gruesome and very detailed description of a plastic surgery gone awry. Such a development was probably for the best, however, considering how difficult it could be to force her and Ino to cohabit at times; while Itachi doesn’t know exactly why the two women loathe each other, he is more than aware of the fact that they do, and spends much of his time colluding with the Captain to keep them from crossing path. In the end, only Ino and Itachi himself have remained together, with occasional appearances by an increasingly intoxicated Anko. 

“This seems like such a waste given their current state of affairs,” Itachi remarks to his companion.

Ino shrugs, the curtain of her long blonde hair flowing with the motion. “People are reluctant to give up their way of life, even in a crisis,” she says. “If anything, during times like this they tend to cling to their old habits even harder.” 

Despite the various intriguing figures drifting in and out of the party, Itachi’s eyes always seem to wander back to Shisui. As ever, the Captain appears to have the group of Risian aristocrats eating out of the palm of his hand, charming them effortlessly. Without warning, Sakura’s words from before enter Itachi’s mind, and he finds himself looking at the man closely, taking in his features in a fashion he has never done before. Objectively, given Shisui’s sharp cheekbones and full lips, plus the toned frame hidden beneath his suit, he can concede that she’s correct in her assessment of his attractiveness--not, of course, that such a fact concerns Itachi in any way. 

He takes a long sip of his water, his throat suddenly dry. “It would appear the Captain is enjoying himself,” he notes, a tad more hoarsely than intended. 

Snorting, Ino replies, “Hardly. He looks more like a prisoner desperate for an escape route.”

“Personally I’m surprised he’s not going for it with the Madame; usually he’s a total skank,” Anko cuts in, emerging out of thin air once more and causing Ino to cough up a mouthful of her fruit cocktail.

“Officer Mitarashi,” she says sternly.

“What? Am I wrong?” Rather than respond, Ino takes a suspiciously-timed sip of her drink, and Anko smirks in victory.

Choosing to ignore the last thirty seven seconds of his life, Itachi once again glances across the room towards Shisui. As if sensing Itachi’s gaze, the man in question looks over and mouths, _ Help me_, imploring Itachi with big, dark eyes, and he sighs; an order is an order, after all.

“Don’t you dare go over there,” Anko warns darkly. “This is the funniest thing that’s happened to me in years.”

“Sir, ignore her. Please, go free our poor Captain,” Ino says, to which Anko mutters, “Traitor.” 

Setting his glass on the crew’s designated table, Itachi rises from his seat and makes his way across the floor. After a moment of carefully weaving through the crowd, he finds himself at Shisui’s side. With his appearance the man relaxes instantly, and greets Itachi happily. “Why, if it isn’t my favorite XO. What’s got your brows pinched exactly a millimeter in distress?” 

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain, but I have received a transmission from Starfleet Command,” Itachi responds. “They are eager to assign our new mission and requested to speak with you in order to receive an estimate on how much longer our current business will take.”

“How unfortunate,” Shisui says, and even manages to plaster some false disappointment onto his face to make the words believable. Turning to the group assembled around him, he adds, “You’ll have to forgive me, but duty calls. Gentleman, Madame Wojack.” With a diplomatic nod, he steps away, and Itachi follows him out of the room. 

The moment they have left the party behind Shisui all but demands, “Tell me you pulled that little story out of your ass solely to bail me outta there.”

“To my knowledge, the Corvus has yet to receive another assignment,” Itachi answers as the walk through the palace’s ornate main hallway, and Shisui’s shoulders sag in visible relief.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathes. “In that case, I owe you my life for the rescue.”

“I do not believe I will ever demand such a payment from you, but you are welcome for the assistance nevertheless.”

It’s not long before they reach the palace’s entrance, merely a stone’s throw from the shores of Suraya Bay. Itachi looks out at the world before them. The suns have just set, blanketing the world in a starry, colorless night. A faint wind ruffles the trees, but the temperature remains balmy yet comfortable. Nightbirds drift along the breeze, softly calling to one another. Far away from the gathering inside, it’s peaceful, almost sweet.

Following his gaze, Shisui smiles softly and asks, “Take a walk with me?”

Itachi stares at him, perplexed. “Is that… an order?”

“_What_?” he laughs. “No, of course not. It’s just an offer.”

“Oh,” Itachi murmurs. “In that case, I will accompany you.” 

At Shisui’s behest, they shed their socks and shoes once they reach the shore. “It’s not the full beach experience unless you can feel the sand between your toes,” he argues, shrugging off his jacket and tie as well, and Itachi chooses not to argue. The ground beneath them is pliable and still sun-soaked from the afternoon’s heat, and Itachi supposes he was right to trust Shisui as he does find the sensation of the shifting grains underfoot oddly pleasing. 

For a while there’s only the sound of the waves crashing around them. It’s comfortable like this, moving in silence with a man he once hated, and Itachi isn’t sure he will ever understand why. After walking for a bit, Shisui leans in and stage-whispers, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Will it land me in a court of law if you do?” Itachi asks warily.

“Not exactly,” Shisui chuckles, continuing, “To be honest, the President's totally harmless; I talked to her after the meeting we had the first day and let her down gently. She took it shockingly well.”

“Why the theatrics, then?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Wojack that was the problem; it was her fucking lackies. I swear, they wouldn’t know an interesting conversation if it bit them on the ass.” 

Emboldened by the easy dialogue between them and the calmness of the night, Itachi steels himself and asks, “Is everything… alright?” Shisui has nothing to say in return, so elaborates, “Perhaps it is not my place to inquire, but you have seemed rather--troubled, as of late.”

Shisui looks at him, expression unreadable. “Let me guess: you’ve got a whole lecture prepped and ready regarding my lack of professionalism?”

To his surprise, Itachi finds the accusation oddly wounding. “I have no such thing,” he responds, voice hushed. “It is not judgment that prompts me, merely concern. Recently I have noticed your mind has been elsewhere, and I simply wanted to offer my confidence, should you require it.” The Captain stares at him wordlessly, and Itachi’s stomach plummets even further. “Forgive me, I have overstepped my boundary as your subordinate. I apologize, I did not mean--”

“No, no, no,” Shisui says, quick yet earnest. Releasing a harsh breath, he stands still, muscles tensing. Itachi freezes in turn, watching him carefully. “It’s not that, it’s just… The situation’s really fucking complicated, and I don’t even know where I’d start or what I’d say so I’d just rather not get into it. Plus, I am technically still your boss, so no need to make things weird.”

“I understand,” Itachi answers, feeling foolishly stung by the rejection.

“But thank you,” Shisui adds, “for asking. Seriously, I appreciate it.”

“There is no need to thank me, Captain; I was merely performing my duty as an officer in your command.” 

“Not sure ‘defending my honor from lusty presidents’ is in the Starfleet code of conduct,” Shisui retorts.

“That is not the duty I was referring to.”

“Believe it or not, I had actually already guessed that.” Shisui falls silent, studying Itachi intensely, and for a moment it feels as if the air is humming around them. In response Itachi inhales sharply, feeling his pulse thrum heavy in his veins, as he waits for… _ something _ to happen.

But nothing does, and the moment passes just as quickly as it arrived. Shisui takes a step back and says, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough fun for one night. Wanna head back?”

Itachi breathes through his nose, slow and steady, and replies. “I will remain here for the time being, if that is alright with you.”

“Suit yourself. Just don’t stay out too late, you party animal.” 

As the Captain disappears into the moonlight, Itachi places his hand over his abdomen, feeling the erratic beat of his heart beneath his palm. Silently he curses himself for the lapse in his hard-won control and decides to keep his feet planted by the ocean until he has returned to his normal composure. 

An hour before dawn, Itachi enters his hotel room, and tries very hard not to think of the Captain in the suite beside him. 

*

In a turn of events surprising even to Itachi, the nature of the fungal infection is identified and a treatment is created less than forty eight hours after the Corvus landed on Risa. Discovering the nature of the organism was the turning point in the investigation, and it didn’t take long after that realization to locate what type of fungus was attacking the ecosystem. While the exact origin of its introduction remained unknown, it was safe to assume that it was most likely brought in by an unaware traveler, given that there had been no threats to or conflicts involving Risa that would raise suspicions of biological warfare. With the mystery as solved as could be reasonably expected, both the crew of the Corvus and the Risian government turned their efforts towards recovery and rebirth. 

For all the time Itachi has spent studying the universe around him, he has never ceased to be amazed by nature’s implacable ability to regenerate. Though a few of the infested trees were deemed unsalvageable and were culled for the sake of the forest, much of the land could and would be saved. It was a thing of wonder to watch as the anti-fungal stripped the inky black poison from the soil, purging the land and putting it on the path to health once more. It would take longer for the trunks to strengthen and the leaves to bloom, but in time they would return. For now, Suraya Bay was off to a very successful start.

“You have done well,” Itachi tells his team as they work with the Risian scientists to pipe the thick gray liquid into the ground. 

“We did not do anything that these men were not capable of doing themselves, provided they were privy to our vast resources and knowledge,” Kabuto argues.

“For fuck’s sake, just take the compliment, will you?” Karin snaps.

Kabuto purses his lips, clearly irritated. “Thank you,” he grinds out.

“It’s a start,” Karin sighs, but despite her put-upon appearance it’s clear she’s fighting a smirk.

Once the task is completed, Itachi decides to take an uncharacteristically spontaneous journey away from the crew. For the last few days he’s felt out of place in a way he can’t articulate, as if the parts inside of him have suddenly become misaligned. It’s a troubling development, one that causes Itachi to worry if he will not be in control of himself enough to lead the Corvus in the way that is expected of him. With that in mind, he chooses to find a place where he can safely untangle his muddled thoughts.

Buried beneath the rocks of Risa are a collection of luminous gardens, and Itachi is relieved to discover the greenery beneath Suraya Bay in particular is blissfully secluded. Few of the suns’ rays reach this land, meaning Itachi is reliant on the shimmering of the various bioluminescent plants filling the area to illuminate his path. Colors that Itachi has never seen before, vibrant pinks and lush blues, fill Itachi’s vision, and he tries to commit the sight of them to his memory as he walks, the grass crunching beneath his feet. 

A waterfall cuts down the middle of the garden, and Itachi perches on its edge to collect himself. The rush of the stream is calm, constant--things Itachi cannot say about his own temperament as of late. For most of his life, Itachi has known what type of person he wished to be. Early on Itachi made a commitment to the way of the Vulcan, to prioritize reason and logic above all else while overcoming the trappings of his human nature. Passion was a problem to be tackled, an equation to seek the answer to, always to be battled and never to be embraced. And while Itachi had not always been the most successful at containing his emotions (though he certainly fared better than Sasuke), he had always made the utmost effort to do so.

Now, however, such clarity feels like a long lost memory, fond yet out of reach, and Itachi is aimless in this new reality. Since joining the Corvus he feels as if his body has become a cracked glass jar, with all his buried desires and compulsions slowly yet painfully leaking out. Flashes of humanity regularly make their way into his daily life--a teasing tone here, a furrowed brow there--and Itachi knows he is walking a fine and dangerous line. But the most troubling consequence remains that there is a piece of him that does not wish to hold back the human inside him any longer.

Many times when he was a boy his mother told Itachi that he was special. At first, he believed she was speaking of his intellect and aptitude for the sciences, but as he aged he realized it was his mixed heritage she was referring to. He was blessed in a way that so few people were, she believed, because he had the ability to create his own way of life. Over and over again she emphasized that he wasn’t beholden to follow either human or Vulcan customs; he could be exactly what he wanted, whoever that person was. In turn, Itachi had always brushed such advice aside, convinced no second thoughts were necessary about his choices. But for the very first time he is beginning to wonder if she might have been correct all along. 

Lost in contemplation, it takes Itachi an uncharacteristically long time to realize he is not alone. “There you are,” someone calls from behind him, and in the dim light he can faintly make out the Captain walking towards him. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

“I did not realize I was so hard to find,” Itachi replies as Shisui settles beside him.

“Forgive me for not defaulting to ‘underground bioluminescent garden’ when I asked myself where my XO disappeared to,” Shisui retorts. “Everything’s just about set; Shikamaru’s taking care of refueling, and then we’re good to go.”

“It is a relief the mission turned out so well.”

“It would seem that for once the gods have smiled upon us.” Shisui falls silent, and Itachi is unsettled to be reminded of the evening before, the strange crackle in the air that settled between them. Of course, such thoughts disappear when the Captain says, “The calls I keep dodging are from my father, to answer your question from last night.”

Itachi frowns. “You were correct in your previous judgment; I have no right as you subordinate to intrude on such personal matters.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I still want you to know.” Shisui favors him with a shaky smile before continuing, “He’s an alcoholic, been in and out of jail and rehab for most of my life. Last I heard he was in the hospital again, drying out for the hundredth time. I’m guessing he’s back in treatment and that’s why he’s turning up again, desperate to make amends.”

“I see,” Itachi says slowly, unsure what to say; yet again he’s out of his element with Shisui. “And you do not wish to make such amends?”

“It’s not that,” he answers. “I mean, it is, to an extent. I don’t want to spend my life mad at him, because I know he hasn’t done all this shit just for kicks. He’s sick, and he’s trying to get better, but… It’s not the first time he’s tried to get better, and every other time hasn’t worked out. And it got to the point where I spent so much on doctors and lawyers and nothing was changing and I just got so--”

“Tired,” Itachi finishes, and Shisui turns to look at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Yeah,” the Captain agrees, “exactly.”

“Why are you telling me this? Given your close association I would expect Mitarashi would be better suited to advising you on such a matter.” 

“Anko and I have known each other since we were five; believe me when I say she’s more than aware of my family drama, considering it was all our shitty neighbors ever gossiped about.” Abruptly Itachi remembers their hellish argument on Coridan, the harsh words he spoke to Shisui on that day. It would seem he had berated Shisui for his ignorance all the while being just as ignorant himself. “I don’t need advice; for better or worse I’ve made my decision. But it’s a relief to talk about it with someone who doesn’t really care about my problems, if that makes sense.”

It bothers Itachi, for reasons he can’t quite articulate, that Shisui assumes he feels no concern for the man, even though he supposes it is a reasonable assumption given their history. “I believe I understand,” he says, despite the fact that he’s not sure he does. “If it is any consolation, I do not think less of you for your choices, Captain.”

“Only because you have the worst possible impression of me already,” Shisui replies, but there’s no malice in the words. They have progressed to a point where there’s little harshness between them, their banter all bark and no bite.

“I will not confirm or deny,” he says, and Shisui grins in reply. 

“My mother is also ill.” Itachi doesn’t know where the words come from; he doesn’t intend to speak them, but they seem to take on a life of their own, bubbling up without his consent. “It is a different type of sickness, of course, but I believe I can understand at least some of your pain.” 

Shisui turns to look at him, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know.”

“Very few do,” he says. “My father is very private about our family matters, understandable given his position and the unfavorable reaction many on our homeworld had to his marriage.” He stares ahead, trying to focus on the rolling hills and the sound of the waterfall beside them. But all he hears is his mother breathing through thick, mucus-coated lungs, her hair falling out in thick clumps of black, and he shudders. “It is not a… new development,” he continues. “She has been ill for quite some time, the cancer aggressive and seemingly untreatable. That is why I went home to Vulcan, once I completed my studies.”

“You wanted to save her,” Shisui concludes, and Itachi nods.

“Desperately,” he murmurs. “But for all my work, with all of my degrees, the best I have been able to do is stabilize her.” It hurts to expose his emotions like this, to pry himself open and admit his fears and failures, but Itachi cannot seem to stop. “Humans do not understand how very fragile they are; your lives are so short compared to ours, so painful. I will never understand why my father would choose to tie himself to someone so easy to lose.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Shisui asks. “He loves her. Love’s never logical, not even for Vulcans.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Itachi says. “In the end, she is the reason I decided to join the Corvus. I fully intended to refute your offer, but she would not allow it. She knew how much I wanted to serve on a ship, and refused to take no for an answer. So I agreed and have felt guilty for it ever since.” 

Never in his life has Itachi spoken to anyone like this, baring his deepest regrets and ugliest sentiments. At the beginning of this journey such an act would have been unthinkable, and to commit it with Shisui of all people would have been impossible. Yet here they are, their wounds raw and exposed, and to Itachi’s surprise it doesn’t feel as terrible as he always thought it would. In truth, it’s almost nice to be hollowed out with all his internal ugliness purged, even for just the briefest of reprieves.

“When I cut my dad off, I felt like the scum of the Earth. I spent so much time thinking about how I was a bad person, a bad son. But in the end I realized I couldn’t live the rest of my life for someone else.” Shisui looks at him, his expression unbearably kind. The wind ruffles his hair, somehow making it even messier, and Itachi feels a horrible impulse to run his fingers through the strands to see if they feel as soft as they look. He clenches his hands in his lap, violently forcing the thought away. “You’re not cruel or selfish to want something for yourself for once, Itachi. You’re just--”

“Human?” Itachi offers.

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” After a moment’s hesitation, Shisui ever so lightly presses his shoulder against Itachi’s own--and, for the very first time Itachi does not pull away. “Not that my opinion counts for much, but for what it’s worth I think you made the right choice.”

“You would say that,” he counters. “After all, my presence on your ship benefits you immensely.”

Shisui throws his head back and laughs, the sound thankfully breaking the heavy atmosphere, and some of the tension drains from Itachi’s shoulders. “Hey, you’re not wrong,” he replies. 

They fall into a companionable silence after that, basking in the breeze. “Captain,” Itachi says, after a pause. “I would appreciate your discretion in this matter, if possible.”

“Don’t worry,” Shisui says. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Itachi nods, grateful. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for a thing.” In the distance Shikamaru calls for them, waving them over, and Itachi feels an odd disappointment that the moment is over. “Well, that’s us,” Shisui sighs, standing in a fluid motion and, to Itachi’s surprise, reaches out a hand. “Come on, time to go home.” 

Itachi thinks of a time when, many years ago, Shisui offered that same hand to him. He didn’t take it then, too prideful and closed off to lean on someone else for support. 

He takes it now, and quietly basks in the warmth in Shisui’s touch he suspects has nothing to do with the summer air. “Yes,” he replies, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips in return. “It is.” 

*

With the Risa assignment settled, Itachi has one other priority to address.

It’s mid-morning on Vulcan when Itachi connects to his mother’s line. “Two calls in one week,” Mikoto marvels, a grin lighting her thin face up. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Is a son not allowed to check on his mother?” Itachi asks, balancing his PADD on his desk as he goes through the motions of returning his belongings to their original home. 

“Oh, a son is,” she retorts, “but I know you better than that.” Her expression softens, and even through the distortion of the screen he can see how gentle her eyes are. “What’s on your mind, little one?”

As always, his mother is patient as her son gathers his thoughts “I wanted to thank you,” he begins, “for encouraging me to take this position. It would seem you were not wrong to make the suggestion.”

“Of course not,” she replies, “but you’re welcome.”

“And…” Itachi pauses, frowning. “I also wanted to thank you for… everything you have done for me. I suspect it was not easy, having a child such as myself, but you have always been...”

“Itachi,” she chides, affection clear in her gaze. “There hasn’t been a single point in your life where I haven’t been proud to be your mother. From the moment you came into this world you have been a gift. We have our differences, yes, but that doesn’t make me love you any less.”

“I also…” It feels as if his throat is seizing up, like he’s choking on the words he so desperately wants to speak. Itachi clears his throat harshly, trying to express what he feels he _ must _ say. “Even if I cannot…”

“It’s okay,” his mother assures him. “You don’t have to say it; I already know.”

An uncomfortable heat prickles at his eyes, and Itachi attempts to blink the sensation away. “You should rest,” he tells her.

“You’ve gotten quite bossy all of a sudden,” Mikoto notes. “Maybe the power of being in charge has gone to your head.”

“That would be the Captain you’re describing, actually,” Itachi replies dryly, and Mikoto laughs. 

“‘You can tell me all about him the next time we speak,” she says. “Til then.”

The dark screen flickers black as he mother’s face leaves him, and Itachi stares at the device for a long moment. “I love you, too,” he says, far too late, foolishly hoping she has somehow managed to hear him from lightyears away.

A moment later his PADD comes to life again, this time with Shisui’s face staring back at him. “Sorry to say it, but we’re back in action,” he announces. “Meet me on the bridge?”

“I will be there momentarily, Captain,” Itachi answers, grateful for the distraction. While tender sentiment may never be his strong suit, it is good to know the hustle and bustle of the Corvus will always be waiting for him. 

Feeling fond, Itachi pockets his PADD and readies himself for yet another day in orbit. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really was not planning to have this chapter finished so quickly but considering i've been self-quarantining because of covid-19, i don't have much to do besides work on this fic. as always, i hoped you enjoyed the latest edition, and appreciate any and all feedback you leave behind. see you for the finale of part one (of five)!


	6. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when he’s around Itachi there are these little moments, most of them dreadfully ordinary, where it suddenly feels as if the entire universe has gone sideways. It’s like he’s reached the top of a roller coaster, and his stomach is dropping as he gets ready for the plunge, crashing back to Earth in a rush. The sensation isn’t exactly foreign; back when they were young and stupid (well, when Shisui was young and stupid, at least) he got the same sickness whenever he entered a room and saw Itachi already sitting there, aloof and braced for Shisui-related impact. A dumb little crush was perfectly fine back when they were teenagers competing for their professors’ recognition and admiration; it is most certainly not fine when Shisui is the Captain of a Starfleet vessel and--oh, yeah, that’s right--Itachi’s fucking boss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for non-detailed mentions/descriptions of sex and hard drug use.

**stardate 2254.267**

They’re in Starfleet Academy’s sprawling auditorium for the welcome ceremony when Shisui notices him. It’s a wonder Shisui even does, given the giant crowd surrounding him, but despite the odds his focus is swiftly snagged by one Cadet in particular. The boy is pretty, prettier than half the girls around him, with silky black hair and equally dark eyes. What really piques Shisui’s interest, however, is the muted green of his skin and the points of his ears, peaking through the strands of his carefully styled bowl-cut. _ Vulcan_, Shisui realizes belatedly; he’d made sure to do his homework once he was accepted into the Academy, and of all the alien races known to the Federation he had always been most fascinated by Vulcans. Shisui, a person notorious for having an abundance of emotions, couldn’t imagine the mindset of a creature that could not--or _ would _ not--feel. 

Fascinated by his discovery--and bored to tears by the Headmaster’s bland introductory speech, anyway--Shisui turns to the only person who manages to be an even bigger gossip than himself in the hope of gathering more details. “Hey,” he whispers, nudging Anko with his elbow insistently. “_Hey._”

“Would you mind? I’m trying not to pay attention,” Anko mutters in return. Undeterred, Shisui continues jabbing at her side, and she faces him with a groan. “Jesus Christ, _ what_?” 

“Who is that?” Leaning across his best friend, Shisui points at the object of his interest. 

Anko follows the direction of his finger and rolls her eyes once she reaches the destination. “Seriously? You don’t know? Fuck’s sake, you’re the one that actually cares about this place.” Shisui raises his eyebrows expectantly, and she explains, “That’s Ambassador Fugaku’s oldest kid, Itachi, but him and his brother are only half-Vulcan. Their mom’s some scientist chick, caused a total scandal when Fugaku shacked up with her.”

Now_ that _ gets Shisui’s attention. “I thought Vulcans couldn’t breed with humans?”

“They couldn’t, not until that one came along. Dunno why he’d even come here considering he’s a total freak as far as everyone’s concerned.” The student in the seat in front of Anko shushes them loudly, and in return she drives a weathered combat boot into the back of their seat, hissing back, “Piss off, dickwad.” Turning back to Shisui, she warns, “Wouldn’t get any ideas if I was you, Uchiha; you don’t stand a chance in hell.”

“Me?” he counters innocently. “Never had an idea in my life.”

As if on cue, Itachi looks over and meets Shisui’s eye. In return, Shisui flashes his best smile and waves, but the gesture manages to have the exact opposite effect. Rather than soften the Vulcan boy’s expression only seems to harden further, and he flickers his gaze away, grimacing. 

Throughout the rest of the welcome ceremony he continues to glance back at Itachi, who refuses to give him the time of day, a reaction Shisui takes in stride. If anything, Itachi’s disinterest only spurs him on more, deepening his curiosity with the strange student in their midst. Anko told him once that the only things he wanted in life were those he couldn’t have, which at the time seemed like complete horseshit. Looking back on it, though… maybe she had a point. 

Shisui feels his grin broaden, even as his stomach does the oddest little flutter at the other boy’s coldness. Something tells him this is going to be a _ very _ fun few years. 

*

**stardate 2266.358**

“It is your move, Captain,” Itachi informs him seriously from his position across the table. They’re the only people in the main Rec room tonight, the last stragglers having cleared out hours ago, but that’s fine by Shisui. It’s rare that he’s allowed to have moments where he’s not surrounded by pushy Officers and eager Ensigns, and if that means he gets to have Itachi to himself for a while, well… that’s just a bonus.

“You can’t rush perfection, First Officer,” Shisui scolds as he scans the board in front of him. About a month ago, he and Itachi fell into the habit of finishing their nightly briefings with a game of chess. Shisui always takes the black and Itachi the white, the pattern familiar and comfortable. As it stands, they’re neck-in-neck in terms of victories, but Shisui’s determined to break the tie. Looking out at the collection of pieces, there’s exactly one way to win, and Shisui sweeps in ruthlessly to take it. “Ha! Gotcha!” he crows, beaming at his decidedly put-out companion. Rubbing it in even further, he goads, “I’m a genius, in case you didn't notice.” 

His mouth a flat line, Itachi clears the board, carefully placing the various pieces back in their box. “I must admit, I am troubled,” he says, studying Shisui intensely. “With every passing second I can see your head growing larger and larger; I fear there is no cure for such an ailment.” 

Shisui smirks and replies, “This is a trademark case of ‘don’t hate the player, hate the game,’ Itachi.”

“I shall take your word for it.” It’s a pleasantly quiet evening, Itachi’s shuffling about the only sound in the room, and Shisui relaxes into his seat, savoring the peaceful moment. The last few months have been hectic as their five year mission has finally caught some steam, meaning most nights Shisui’s been falling into bed physically and mentally exhausted. It’s a sensation he’s more than used to at this point; over a decade of working for Starfleet has made him very familiar with the organization’s routines. Each year the pattern remains exactly the same: start slow, work like crazy for months, and come to a screeching halt at the end of the calendar year, just in time for the inevitable burn-out to arrive. 

Personally, Shisui is more than looking forward to the annual end of the year freeze on new assignments, planning to sleep for days and eat like shit and think about absolutely nothing unless it’s absolutely necessary. On the flipside, how his uptight, overachieving, workaholic second-in-command will take such a development is another matter entirely. 

To say that their relationship has improved since the beginning of their time in space is the understatement to end all understatements. Even after months of successful cohabitation there are still moments where Shisui is taken by surprise by their ability to simply exist in each other’s spaces without wanting to kill one another and/or themselves. But despite all odds here they are, sitting in a sparsely furnished living room and squabbling over board games like his long-dead grandparents. It’s equal parts sweet and terrifying because it all feels so fucking easy, and Shisui does not do this kind of easy, _ ever_; if he’s learned anything in life it’s that moments like this are just what happens when you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Clearing his throat from the sudden bitter taste on his tongue, Shisui asks, “So, any big plans for our little vacation?”

“Perhaps. I was actually hoping to speak with you about that very matter,” Itachi answers, resuming his seat across from Shisui.

“If you let me win to butter me up I will never forgive you,” he warns, and Itachi smiles in response.

“Rest assured, Captain, your victory was just.” Just as suddenly as it arrived, the good humor drains from Itachi’s face, and he continues, “I have given it much thought and have come to the conclusion that, since we will be temporarily out of commission as a crew, this would be a convenient opportunity to visit my home planet.” 

Shisui’s brows draw together in concern. “Your mom doing okay?”

“As far as I am aware her condition remains stable, but with an illness as aggressive as hers there is always the possibility she will deteriorate without warning. I would like to spend as much time with her as I am able, given that in time she will…” Itachi looks down at his primly-laced fingers, the muscle in his jaw working, and Shisui desperately wants to comfort him. But ‘comfort’ for him is a much different animal than Itachi, so he sits still and patiently waits for the Vulcan to continue. “In time, I will not have such an option,” he finishes, voice raw, and Shisui digs his nails into his palms to keep him from doing something he’ll regret, like reaching for Itachi’s clenched hands and thus revealing himself to be a total jackass. 

“Of course, Itachi,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Take as much time as you need.”

Itachi looks up at him, expression open and surprised in a way that makes Shisui feel his own guts writhing in his middle. “Are you certain?”

“Definitely; you said it yourself, it’s a snoozefest around these parts lately. No reason not to leave this boat if you’ve got the chance.” Despite the reassurance, Itachi still looks unsure, so Shisui rolls his eyes and adds, “Look, if I blow up the Corvus or cause the end of some ancient alien civilization, you’ll be the first to know about it, okay?”

“That does not make me feel better,” Itachi says, though his features smooth out once more. After a moment he adds, “I have to t--”

Shisui lifts a hand to stop him and says, “If you thank me for this, I will absolutely change my mind.”

“Understood, Captain,” Itachi replies with an amused twist of his lips, which is just… terrible for Shisui to witness. 

Sometimes when he’s around Itachi there are these little moments, most of them dreadfully ordinary, where it suddenly feels as if the entire universe has gone sideways. It’s like he’s reached the top of a roller coaster, and his stomach is dropping as he gets ready for the plunge, crashing back to Earth in a rush. The sensation isn’t exactly foreign; back when they were young and stupid (well, when _Shisui_ was young and stupid, at least) he got the same sickness whenever he entered a room and saw Itachi already sitting there, aloof and braced for Shisui-related impact. A dumb little crush was perfectly fine back when they were teenagers competing for their professors’ recognition and admiration; it is most certainly _not_ fine when Shisui is the Captain of a Starfleet vessel and--oh, yeah, that’s right--Itachi’s fucking _boss_. And of course he feels like that now, when Itachi looks at him all soft and grateful just because Shisui’s performing an act of basic decency by letting him go see his dying mother, like Shisui’s some great guy instead of, y’know, the _worst_ _person ever_.

Stuffing that sickeningly little unpleasantry down, Shisui drives the conversation back to safer territory. “According to Asuma we’ll be reaching the port tomorrow; you should be able to catch a shuttle to Vulcan from there. Like I said, there’s no rush to come back. I’ll reach out once we have orders to head back into the wilderness.”

Nodding, Itachi stands in a single fluid motion. “I should gather my belongings and prepare for my time away. Please enjoy the rest of your evening, Captain” he replies, excusing himself with a polite incline of his head.

“See you in the morning,” Shisui says, and the moment Itachi is out of sight he exhales heavily, as if he can remove every terrible impulse and dumbass thought from his body in the motion, before planting his forehead flat on the table. “Some Captain,” he mutters, and though he doesn’t know exactly how long he stays in that position he’s sure the answer is not one that would make him feel better about himself. 

*

Located on the edge of Alpha quadrant’s borders is Starfleet’s Alpha Spaceport, a one-stop-shop for travellers all across the Federation. Designed initially as an intergalactic pitstop, the establishment quickly grew into a small city, filling up with various diners, gift shops, and even a smattering of hotels and entertainment centers. All in all, it’s not a terrible place to get landlocked for the time being, though idly Shisui wonders how long it will take for the crew to get stir-crazy.

It’s standard procedure for ships on long missions like theirs to get called to port at least once a year; keeping the Corvus docked and parked gives Starfleet a chance to examine their asset and make sure she’s been put in good hands and also to fire the fuck out of Shisui if she has not. Fortunately, aside from some expected wear and tear, the lead mechanic informs Shisui that the ship looks good and should only require a few minor repairs. Of course, as he’s told this he has to all but gag Shikamaru, who takes the bland statement like an invitation to duel, and pawns the mouthy engineer off onto Asuma. Along with the touch-ups various other Starfleet employees will be working to restock their supplies, making sure they have enough food and medical equipment to last the coming year, and restore the ship to her brand spanking new state as much as possible. In return the crew simply has to let the team do their jobs and not wander so far away that Shisui can’t drag them back when it’s time for Starfleet to shoot them back in space. It’s not a bad deal, all things considered, and if he plays his cards right Shisui just might be able to “accidentally” leave Suigetsu behind. 

As expected, Itachi is the first man down, leaving them not long after the Corvus is processed. Most of the main crew gathers around him to bid him a fond farewell, an event Anko regards with a derisive snort. “For fuck’s sake, he isn’t dying,” she says, armed crossed against her chest, quietly adding, “tragically.” 

“Be nice,” Shisui reprimands, even if he kind of agrees that the level of drama being brought to the table is wholly unnecessary.

“This is me being nice,” she argues.

“Then be _ nicer_,” he counters, taking note of Itachi in the middle of the crowd and his very bewildered expression. He looks incredibly overwhelmed, like a teeny tiny dog surrounded by over-eager children, and it’s far more endearing than it has any right to be. Clapping his hands together, he cuts through the crew and says, “Alright, break it up and let the man leave. You’ve got a week of freedom, go find something better to do with your lives.” 

Muttering in annoyance, the group quickly disperses, leaving Itachi and Shisui standing alone on the platform. Still a bit stunned, Itachi eventually notes, “That was certainly… unusual.”

“They like you, they really like you,” Shisui replies flatly, to cover up the uneasy flip-flopping suddenly manifesting in his chest. 

Fixing him with an intense look, Itachi asks, “You are sure you will contact me the moment it is time for the Corvus to be rerouted?”

“For the millionth time, _ yes_. I don’t plan on abandoning my First Officer with four years left of our mission.” Softening his expression, he adds, quieter, “Go home, Itachi; you deserve it.” 

The final boarding call for the transport to Vulcan rings out, and Itachi nods resolutely. “I will see you soon, then, Captain.” 

“I’ll be here,” Shisui confirms as Itachi gathers his belongings, and watches as he walks over to the shuttle. It doesn’t take long before he steps inside and the ship takes off, disappearing into the starry sky with a silver wink. Sighing, Shisui turns and naturally ends up face-to-face with a positively tickled Anko.

“That was so beautiful,” she says, and Shisui scowls; considering the woman has never passed up a chance to collect fresh blackmail material on the people around her, he should have known she would be eavesdropping. “Truly some _ Casablanca_-level shit right there.” 

“Move it, Mitarashi,” he responds snappily, and with a shit-eating grin she complies. 

The motel they’re spending the foreseeable future in is perfectly, undeniable adequate. Sure, it’s not the crisp cotton sheets and fresh fruit plates of Risa, but Shisui has definitely slept in worse places, usually because of his own bad choices. Regardless, the room will get the job done, and as he unpacks his clothes and toiletries he thinks about all the things he can do now that he has officially no job and no crew to bother him. It’s going to be great, the emotional equivalent of taking a warm bubble bath, and he won’t even notice Itachi is gone. Shisui’s going to love it.

*

He lasts three days before he reaches out to Itachi.

In his defense, the first point of contact is an actual message to pass on, even if Shisui can admit, at least to himself, that it’s a pretty sorry excuse to reach out to the man. **karin wanted me to tell you that she misses you**, he says while waiting for coffee one morning, choosing to send a text rather than risk calling Itachi at an inopportune time. **also i’m p sure she’s probably going to kill kabuto.**

Truth be told, he’s not really expecting Itachi to answer him--or, if he does, Shisui suspects the answer will be professional yet overall short and disinterested, and he can respect that. Really, he can. After all, Itachi would be more than justified in blowing him off, considering he’s just trying to spend some quiet time with his family and now he has to deal with his superior officer pestering him with petty bullshit.

Shisui’s just about to fall down a rabbit hole made of equal parts self-pity and self-loathing when his PADD buzzes. Sitting at a small booth in the back of the (frankly hideous) cafe he’s decided to frequent this morning, he checks the device to see a response from Itachi. **Is such a development all that novel?** he writes, then adds_, _**Also you may give her my regards in return**_. _

**it’s not really new, but it’s still super annoying,** Shisui replies, then types_, _ ** ok hypothetical question: we lock them in a cage to battle to the death, who wins?**

**Karin,** Itachi responds instantly.

**even with weapons?**

**Especially with weapons, Captain. **

Grinning, Shisui takes a sip of his coffee, then just as quickly spits it out. **uhhh speaking of death i’m about to pass away in this coffeeshop from this absolutely heinous drink i just got.**

**I will carry on our mission in your honor,** Itachi replies, and Shisui can just picture the thin note of sarcasm in his voice.

**wow rude,** he writes back, and after that he fully intends to put his PADD down and leave Itachi alone (and get a refund on this sorry excuse for coffee he’s acquired). But then just… doesn’t. Throughout the afternoon he finds random and increasingly unnecessary reasons to contact the Vulcan, who continues to reliably respond to every message. The pattern continues into the evening, and then the morning, and the next afternoon, and so on and so forth.

In Shisui’s defense (_again_), he’s not always the one who initiates their conversations. Yes, it's _ usually _ him, but every once in a while Itachi will contact him out of the blue, usually about some ridiculous Vulcan microaggression he’s experiencing that has Shisui’s blood pressure going through the roof. For his part, Shisui usually tries to keep his own messages on the lighter side. Though he is agonizingly curious (and maybe a little anxious) about how things are going with Mikoto and especially Sasuke, he decides to err on the side of caution in case the answer is, to put it gently, “fucking terrible.” Instead he sends Itachi a variety of inane observations about people’s driving and the abysmal local food, or simple updates on his day so far. And, despite it all, Itachi replies each and every time. It’s kind of great, but also makes Shisui feel like he’s lit himself on fire.

Even if he’s antsy for reasons he will not unpack, Shisui is still glad to have some alone time as the days wear on. Today, he’s wandering through the pocket of stores selling weird junk and various second-hand trinkets from across the galaxy. The Alpha Spaceport is nothing pretty to look at--merely a collection of dreary gray buildings with not a plant or sliver of natural light in sight--but at least it’s never dull. 

As he picks through the mess, he finds little odds and ends to give to his favorite members of the crew--fancy cigars for Asuma, a locket with dried flower petals inside for Ino, nothing for Anko because they’re on a friendship time-out since she’s mean to him--as they are rapidly entering the holiday season. Culturally speaking, there are at least a million different end of the year celebratory dates in their universe, so his plan is basically to throw presents at everyone and let them come to their own conclusions. With an armful of tokens of his appreciation attached to his person, it’s too easy to add something for Itachi to the mix, though there are countless reasons why he shouldn’t. The boundaries between them are weird enough as is; no need to magnify the weirdness with a creepily specific gift that he’s put way too much thought into. 

To destress Shisui pops into a small shop peddling, of all things, records. Hungrily he flips through the weathered sleeves, eyes peeled for the one album that has eluded him his entire life. Naturally, he relays said quest to Itachi, who has heard him bemoan the lack of this single fucking Fleetwood Mac disk, the only one missing from his collection, more times than either of them can count. What Shisui has _ not _ told him is that the reason he’s so insistent on finding it is because it’s tied to one of the few decent memories he has of his father, but frankly he plans to take that sad little fact to his grave. 

**Has there been any sign of your collectible? ** Itachi asks, a little while after Shisui is left once again disappointed. **“Rumours,” I believe it was?**

**NO!!!** he texts back furiously as he walks back to his room to deposit his purchases. **i’m gonna drop dead before i find this fucking thing i stg.**

**How unfortunate, Captain. You have my sympathies. **

**yeah, you sound real broken up about it, **he replies, and to Itachi’s credit he doesn’t deny the accusation.

Later on, against his better judgment, Shisui decides to give Anko the benefit of the doubt and lets her take him out for the evening. For much of their resting period he has kept a careful distance from Anko because, as much as he adores her, she is a bundle of nefarious energy and overall a terrible influence, and Shisui is trying to at least fake his way into an image of competence and professionalism. That said, he does miss the aura of controlled chaos that permeates quality time with Anko, so when she flashes her huge, heavily-lined puppy dog eyes at him in pleading Shisui crumbles like wet paper towel and follows her into the night. Oddly enough the place she drags him to is uncharacteristically upscale by Anko’s standards, and idly he wonders if this little adventure is some sort of twisted social experiment designed to see how far she can push Shisui out of his comfort zone before he breaks. If it is, it pretty quickly backfires when Anko gets a feel for the hoity toity high restaurant they’ve stumbled into, and the tiny ass proportions such a lifestyle produces. Feeling more than a little smug, Shisui takes on the responsibility of ordering for his sullen companion in between bouts of updating Itachi on this situation. 

Unfortunately, Shisui’s split attention does not go unnoticed. As they pick through their appetizers (“pick” being the operative word, as Anko’s more than a little suspicious of what’s considered border cuisine), Anko asks, “Whoa, who are you banging?”

Shisui glances up from his PADD, eyebrows drawn as he catches the wicked curve of her smile. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve been glued to that damn device for hours, and I’ve barely seen you in days,” she explains. “Clearly you’ve got some new squeeze on this rock keeping you occupied.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s just Itachi.” The second the words come out his mouth, Shisui _ knows _ he’s screwed up, and he looks over at Anko to see her staring at him like a shark that’s just been chummed. 

“Oh, my God,” she says, her eyes widening in delight. “You _ do _ like him.”

“Yeah, we get along now; it’s not breaking news,” he mutters.

“No, you _ like-_like him,” Anko counters.

“‘_Like-_like him?’” Shisui parrots. “What are you, five?”

“Do five year olds even _ like_-like each other?” she asks thoughtfully. 

Rolling his eyes, he says, “I don’t know, Anko; unlike you it’s been a while since I was one.” 

“Whatever, not the point. The point is that I fucking _ knew _ it! I _ knew _ this was going to happen!” she exclaims, pointing a finger in his face like a demonic vision of his mother. “Wow, you are so stupid. I mean, you are so fucking dumb, I cannot even deal with how _ dumb _ you are.”

Exceedingly aware of where they are, Shisui leans in closer and hisses, “Would you stop? It’s not like that,” in an attempt to shut her up.

“Oh, yes,” Anko says loudly, unrepentant. “Yes, it is, and you are too blind to see it.”

“It’s _ not_,” he insists

“Then prove it. Go pick up that girl over there.” Anko jabs her thumb over her shoulder, and despite himself Shisui glances at the woman in question. Objectively she is pretty, her skin shimmering like molten gold and her eyes sparkling like diamonds, but the sight stirs nothing inside him. If anything, the idea of going home with her somehow makes Shisui feel even more hollow. 

Sighing, he meets Anko’s gaze and declares, “I am not going to sleep with some random woman just to make a point.”

With a scoff, his friend argues, “Once upon a time you would have gone for it, no questions asked.”

“Yeah, and once upon a time _ you _ would have been doing lines off the bar. We all make mistakes, it’s called ‘being twenty-two,’” Shisui says, annoyed. 

Anko shrugs. “That’s fair,” she concedes. 

“Look,” he begins seriously. “I told you this the night before we went into orbit, and I’m going to tell you again right now: I’m not gonna be that guy, not with Itachi or anyone else on my ship. It’s this new thing I’m trying out where I have standards.”

“You are so boring, you know that?” she asks. “Seriously, you have become everything we have always hated, and I couldn’t be more disappointed in you if I tried.”

“See, just for that you’re buying the next round,” Shisui says, and blessedly that particular line of conversation swiftly dies off shortly after.

Minutes later, the waitress brings their main entrees, a set of grilled green meats that Anko regards suspiciously. “The hell is this?” she all but demands, brow furrowed.

“Try it,” he encourages, and watches as Anko raises a forkful to her nose, sniffing it intently, before placing it inside her mouth. 

Almost immediately her features twist in disgust, and she coughs intensely before bending to spit the food into a napkin. “I hate you,” she hisses, in between gasping breaths.

“Cheers to that!” Shisui replies sunnily, and downs his drink in one gulp; karma, as they say, is a bitch, and Shisui intends to follow its example.

*

Despite efforts to avoid discussing the lovelife that he doesn’t actually have, the subject continues to fill Shisui’s head for the rest of the night. It haunts him long after he drops Anko at her crummy little suite and returns to his own room to wash the day away, pinballing inside his brain as he goes through each mundane step of getting ready for bed.

Honestly, the most messed up thing is the fact that Anko isn’t wrong about him; while he’s not proud to admit it, there was a period in his life where Shisui moved through the world with an almost single-minded desire to fill the empty pieces of himself with whatever--or _ whoever_\--he could find. He supposes it’s the oldest story in the book, pathetic in its predictability-- a little boy with abandonment issues grows up to be a guy that bails the moment anyone shows actual interest in him--but that cliche was his exact reality for so many years. He always tried not to be malicious or dishonest in his conquests (for lack of a better descriptor), but a sour taste still forms in his mouth regardless whenever he looks back on those days. 

After a few years of literally fucking around, Shisui decided to get his shit together and grow the hell up. Being a massive flirt was maybe charming and endearing when he was merely a Starfleet upstart, but became a lot less appealing when his career actually started to take off. For all his many faults a lack of dedication to his job was never one of them, making the choice to get himself in check a very obvious, though not necessarily easy, one. Thus, Shisui reshaped himself into a person known for being hardworking, reliable, and more than a little closed-off to those around him. Mission after mission, ship after ship he’s maintained that friendly yet respectful distance, never getting too close to the members of his crew, because it was safer that way and not just because of the sex factor. It was because he believed it was better to forsake attachments and focus on the one part of his life that he could trust to be reliable, to not leave him like everything else, and that was Starfleet--until now, at least. 

These days, more than a little against his will, Shisui finds himself collecting bits of the Corvus’ crew and burying them within himself. Asuma’s steadiness, Ino’s optimism, Sakura’s brilliance, Shikamaru’s easy-going attitude, Chouji’s bravery, Kisame’s enthusiasm (though in a decidedly less murder-y capacity)--layer after layer there’s another facet of his team that has wormed its way inside, making a home where once only Anko’s endless sarcasm and undying loyalty was allowed to live. And at the center of the storm lies Itachi, with his ruthlessly analytical nature and quiet yet intense emotions that Shisui always feels honored to get a glimpse of, like he’s a holy man lucky enough to receive the word of God.

_ You only want the things you can’t have_, teen Anko’s voice echoes in his head, over a decade later, and Shisui scrubs at his face even harder as he washes up, feeling spiteful. 

He didn’t want this, he thinks when he’s crawling between the sheets of his borrowed bed a little later. He didn’t want _ any _ of this, whether it was forming relationships with these people or buying them personalized presents or sewing seeds he knew he could never bring to harvest. All he ever wanted, the same desire he’d had since he was just a kid with a bruised heart and big dreams, was to get lost in space and leave everything else behind. 

If only life could be that simple. 

*

Hours later, with the ghosts of relationships past still bouncing around in his head, Shisui’s halfway between sleep and waking when the call comes through. Groaning, he unlocks his PADD and mumbles, “Uchiha,” without realizing who’s hailed him. 

“Forgive me for waking you, Captain.” The sound of Itachi’s voice brings him to full consciousness, and Shisui narrows his eyes against the bright screen of his device to take in the man’s face. It’s hard to tell from the heavily pixelated image alone, but something seems… _ off _ with Itachi. “I had forgotten about the time difference between Vulcan and your current location.”

“‘S okay,” Shisui says around a yawn as he turns on his bedside lamp. “Everything alright?”

“For the most part, yes. I was pleased to find Mother as well as can be expected, given her circumstances. She seems very happy to have me home, if for no other reason than to interrogate me about my recent adventures.” 

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Shisui decides to bite the bullet and asks, “Any luck with your brother?”

Itachi’s expression tightens imperceptibly and he replies, “Sasuke has continued to keep his bedroom door locked to me and conveniently vacates our home’s common spaces the moment I enter them. So no, I do not believe that there has not been ‘any luck.’”

Not for the first time Shisui wants to zip over to Vulcan, grab Sasuke by the scruff of his neck, and shake the little shit until he realizes he’s the front-runner for the ‘Biggest Asshole in the Galaxy’ contest. “He’ll come around eventually,” he reassures Itachi, though by the look on the man’s face the words don’t do all that much. 

“You may be right,” Itachi murmurs. 

Though he’s tempted to pry, if there’s one thing Shisui’s learned over the last year is that the best way to get Itachi to open up to him is simply to wait for such a privilege to be offered. So that’s what he does, even as exhaustion pulls at his eyes and every cell in his body is yelling at him to hang up. 

Eventually, his patience is rewarded. After a handful of silent moments, Itachi exhales sharply and says, “For all the years I have been alive, only two people in this universe have ever been able to know when something troubles me: my mother and yourself.”

The words make Shisui feel like Itachi’s punched him--again. “I can only aspire to be as pretty as your mom,” he says, using humor as always to cover up his feelings.

Predictably his jokes do nothing to puncture the growing tension, and Itachi glances away, expression taut with concern. “All my life I have experienced a sense of imbalance on this planet, but now that I have left and returned the sensation has only worsened,” he explains. “Before, I was able to temper the parts of myself that Vulcan did not approve of, the facets that had no place in polite society, but now…” Itachi trails off, shaking his head. “Now I simply feel lost,” he confesses.

“Maybe it’s because you’ve been found,” Shisui says, which is easily one of the corniest, most terrible things he has ever had the misfortune to speak aloud. Trying to flush _ that _ miserable line down the toilet, he continues, “I mean, we’re all misfits on our ship, right? None of us really belong anywhere, but we belong on the Corvus. So maybe it’s harder to be back because now you’ve found a place where you actually fit in.” 

At that, Itachi studies him, features softening. “I had no idea you were so sentimental,” he states, and Shisui ducks his head to cover the uncomfortable heat he feels brewing in his cheeks.

“I’m a man of many mysteries,” he replies.

“So it would seem.” Shisui can’t see much of Itachi’s body, most of it hidden outside the frame of the man’s PADD, but what he can glimpse relaxes in a single smooth motion. “It is strange; despite the… curiousness of your statement, I find myself comforted nonetheless,” Itachi notes. 

Smirking, Shisui says, “Maybe your heart’s going to grow three times its size after all.”

“I would not go that far, Captain,” he responds dryly, and Shisui can only laugh in return, fondness buzzing in his chest. A second later, Itachi adds, “I am afraid I must go. Once again, I apologize for interrupting your evening.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Shisui assures him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“Take care until then,” Itachi answers before the screen goes black.

It isn’t until minutes after they’ve disconnected that Shisui realizes he has just had a lengthy video chat with his second-in-command while he was a) in bed and b) completely shirtless. “I’m going to fucking kill myself,” he declares, covering his face with a pillow and begging for death’s sweet embrace. 

Well, one thing’s for sure: Anko can never_, ever _ know about this. 

*

The morning they’re scheduled to take off a series of frantic knocks on Shisui’s door pulls him from the movie he was only half-watching anyway. With at least a dozen worst case scenarios flitting through his head--something went wrong with the ship, Kisame got arrested, Anko got arrested, Kisame and Anko got arrested _ together_\--he strides across the room and pulls the door open. Of all the people he expects to see on the other side Itachi is probably at the bottom of the list, so of course that’s exactly who it is. 

“Hey,” Shisui greets him warmly, pleasantly surprised. “You made it. Did you have a good tr--”

“Please take this,” Itachi says, deadly serious, and all but shoves a wrapped package in his face.

The change in atmosphere is so sudden and so severe Shisui feels as if the man has kicked his feet out from under him. “Should I be worried?” he asks, eyeing Itachi warily. 

Itachi stays silent, merely shaking what could be the cause of Shisui’s untimely death in response, and with a sigh Shisui plucks the item from his hands. “Kill me and I will haunt you for the rest of eternity,” he vows, backing up enough that Itachi can step inside and close the door as he begins to unwrap the package. Whatever this thing is, it’s immaculately assembled, as expected of Itachi’s deranged perfectionism, so Shisui’s grateful he at least has something nice to look at in his final moments. That’s about the last coherent thought he has, though, because once the paper falls away and he’s faced with the image of stark white album cover he’s all but burned into his retinas over the years Shisui’s pretty sure his brain shuts down completely. 

Shisui can’t even begin to guess what expression is currently on his face, but the journey he's going on has Itachi watching him very carefully. After allowing him a few seconds of stunned silence, Itachi eventually explains, “It seemed only appropriate, as the end of the year is traditionally designated for gift-giving. And you have mentioned--repeatedly--your unsuccessful search for this particular piece of music.” That provokes absolutely no response in Shisui, who, for the life of him, cannot spit up a single word. Visibly nervous, Itachi adds, “I am sorry, my thinking was incorrect and inappropriate. Please, allow me,” and moves to grab the record from Shisui’s hands. 

That manages to snap Shisui out of his stupor. He clutches the item in question to his chest and twists away from Itachi. “Don’t you dare,” he orders. “You can pry this album from my cold, dead hands.” 

The Vulcan stares at him, puzzled. “You… are not angry?”

“Are you _ kidding_? Of course I’m not angry,” Shisui retorts, incredulous. “This is… How did you even find this?” 

“An associate of my father’s is fond of Earth antiques,” Itachi replies, doing a shitawful job at concealing a proud smirk. “Even for him this was a particularly difficult artifact to locate; I may or may not owe him a favor for procuring it.” 

“And to think all I got you was a decrepit biography of Louis Pastuer,” Shisui says with a sigh, but the words have the opposite of their intended effect. 

Somehow, Itachi lights up further and asks, “You purchased a gift for me?” in a hopeful little voice that makes Shisui feel like he’s falling off a cliff. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” he warns, suddenly defensive, “and I got stuff for everyone, so. You’re not special or anything.” Walking over to the pile of his neatly packed bags, Shisui rummages through his belongings until he finds a small parcel buried underneath his dirty clothes. He’s nowhere near as precise as Itachi in his wrapping, choosing to slap some brown paper on the book and then call it a day, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Itachi all that much. Shisui gets a quick view of Itachi’s openly pleased face before redirecting his gaze to his own mismatched socks; one more look at _ that _ and Shisui really will die.

“Look at how old this book is,” Itachi marvels, gently flipping through the dusty pages. “There must be so many inaccuracies that I can correct.”

“You are the only person I know that would be so excited about such a prospect,” Shisui says, hopelessly charmed despite his mocking tone. It’s in that moment he realizes he’s such a fucking goner, because Itachi is kinder and funnier and more loyal than Shisui ever could have imagined and also just as weirdly beautiful as he was when they met all those years ago, and without a shadow of a doubt Shisui absolutely, positively _ like_-likes him. 

A knock at his door mercifully saves Shisui from _ that _ revelation and from the hallway Anko yells, “Yo, it’s time to head back to the ship. Hurry up or I’m leaving without you.”

“Coming,” Shisui answers, struggling to keep his tone steady, his stomach heaving as he takes a significant step away from Itachi. Something unreadable washes over his First Officer’s face at the movement, but it quickly disappears before Shisui can make a comment, Instead of wading further into the murky waters of their relationship, he asks, “Shall we?”

Itachi nods. “After you, Captain,” he agrees, and off they go. 

*

Relief pours through Shisui’s body the moment he steps aboard the Corvus; as fun a detour as the port was, it’s really good to be home. 

Everyone assumes their familiar positions as they file aboard the ship: Ino disappears into her office to catch up on whatever messages she may have missed, Shikamaru heads to the Engine Room to make sure no one’s messed with his baby, Anko does… whatever it is she does with her days (honestly, even after all these months Shisui genuinely has no clue how she accomplishes her job, just that she does and he’s probably better off not asking too many questions). After a quick stop to drop off his bags in his quarters and change into his uniform, Shisui steps onto the bridge. Asuma and Chouji are already settled at their stations and in the process of bringing the ship to life when he enters, and he’s unsurprised to see Itachi is waiting for him, conveniently placed next to the Captain’s chair. 

“Captain on the bridge!” Chouji announces, and Shisui nods in greeting as he makes his way to where Itachi is standing.

“We’ll be in the air shortly,” Asuma tells him, fingers moving in a swift, automatic fashion as he pushes at the various buttons and knobs that serve to pump the blood into the Corvus’ veins.

“Fine by me,” Shisui responds, dropping into his seat. He’s more than a little surprised when, just a moment later, Itachi places a mug of coffee into his hands, and is forced to swallow down the fierce reaction that bubbles up when he sips it and finds Itachi has prepared it just the way he likes it. 

At this rate it’s going to be a _ long _ forty-eight months trapped together in space. 

“Another year ended,” Itachi observes before turning to look at Shisui curiously. “I wonder what will await us in the coming months.”

As if on cue, the Corvus hums to life, and even after all these years the feeling of wonder that rushes through him at the sensation has never left Shisui. “Only one way to find out,” he replies, an anticipatory giddiness building in his chest, and Itachi favors him with an unguarded smile in return.

Leaning back in his seat to face his Captain, Asuma says, “We’re ready for takeoff, sir.”

“Punch it,” Shisui confirms with a nod, and just like that they disappear into the stars. He shifts his gaze from the brilliant darkness surrounding them to Itachi at his side, expression equal parts determined and wonderstruck. 

_ Fuck it_, he thinks, contentment flowing thick and syrupy through his veins. Maybe it won’t be such a bad trip after all. 

  
  


*

_ and if you don’t love me now, _

_ you will never love me again. _

_ i can still hear you saying, _

_ you would never break the chain. _

  
  


_ * _

**to be continued. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do they have spaceports? can PADDs text? would anyone know what casablanca is in this century? i don't know and at this point frankly i don't care.
> 
> this chapter isn't nearly as long or as Big™ as the ones that came before it because i really just wanted it to function as both a grace note and a peak at things to come. when i first started this fic my fiancee made a joke about shisui being into dadrock so naturally i ran with it and turned it into a plotpoint. thanks babe! a fun and well-known fact about 'rumours' is that it was written while all the relationships inside fleetwood mac were imploding, which probably doesn't mean anything in the context of this story, right?
> 
> ANYWAY IT'S DONE wow can't believe part one is in the bag but here we are, folks. i've said it before and will say it again: thank you for everyone who has left comments and kudos on this fic so far, it really does mean the world to me. as always, you can find me on tumblr @astoldbygingersnaps if you want and you're more than welcome to chat with me, either about the fic or anything you'd like.
> 
> that's a wrap, everyone! see you for part two!

**Author's Note:**

> did i get the idea for this in a space-themed diner with my girlfriend, immediately become obsessed with it, and just as immediately start writing it even though i know nothing about star trek? 
> 
> yes. the answer is, of course, Yes. 
> 
> anyway hope you enjoy it, kudos and comments are always appreciated, etc. etc. etc.


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